New  York.    K.    Y. ,    Oct.    17,1099. 

James  C.  Taylor,   Esq., 
18  State  St., 

Boston, Mass. 
Dear  Sir: — 

In  regard    to    the  financing  of  the  $10,000,000. 
mention ad   in  our  conversation  on  the  12th  Ins-.^,    tt 
la  of  tha  utmost   importance       ^t  I  am  placed  as 
soon  as  possible   In   full  t.  *ivno£iJj&*!Sf£r^m**' 

"THnT^^aisregarding  the  p.      *B«y5  verod  by  these 
bonds.          ^^^»^^      ^^f~ 

Pirat,    the^a^Bml    c".nt  pyr  mile,    and    if  aucii 
cost   covers  the  iiec<jr,s,iry   o.iipiaent   for  same  both 
for  freight  and  passenger  service ;    also  if  thoea 
bonds  are  the   first  lien         one  of  lay  sons  lie 


ttfp&fi 

V"?  A    £x  fe.-  .1  & 


CH'D  WHITTEMORE 

Kf.re  Bookf 


THAT  OF  A  HAND  HOLDING   A  BOTTLE1 


ONE  OF  MY  SONS 


BY 


ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN 

(MRS.  CHARLES  ROHLFS) 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  LKAVENWORTH  CASE,"  "HAND  AND  RING,"  "MARKED 
'PERSONAL,'"  "THAT  AFFAIR  NEXT  DOOR,"  ETC. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Cbe  "Knickerbocker  press 

1901 


COPYRIGHT,  IQOI 
BV 

ANNA  KATHARINE  ROHLFS 


Ube  "Rnicfcerbocfter  press,  Hew  ffiorh 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 

THE   SHADOW 

PAGB 

I. — THE  CHILD,  AND  WHAT  SHE  LED  ME  INTO   .  i 

II. — THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  AND  THE  OLD.    .         .  6 

III. — WHAT  A  DOOR  HID 21 

IV. — "HE  DRANK  IT  ALONE"  .         .         .32 

V. — HOPE 38 

VI. — A  HAPPY  INSPIRATION       ....  50 

VII. — THE  ELDERLY  GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL- 
POST  .         .         .....  54 

VIII. — THE  MAN  BEHIND  THE  SCREEN         .         .  71 

IX. — THE  CLOCK  THAT  HAD  RUN  DOWN  .         .  88 

X. — THE  PENCIL 96 

XI. — SOMETHING  TO  THINK  ABOUT  .         .         .  101 

XII. — GOSSIP 104 

XIII. — INDICATIONS       .         .         .         .         .         .no 

XIV. — A  SUDDEN  TURN 127 

XV. — THE  MISSING  POCKET        ....  139 

XVI. — IN  THE  PARLOUR  AT  MRS.  PENRHYN'S      .  147 


iv  CONTENTS 

BOOK  II 

THE    MAN 

PAGB 

XVII. — THE  MONOGRAM 157 

XVIII.— THE  PHIAL        .  ....     176 

XIX- — I  MAKE  MY  FIRST  MOVE  .         .         .187 

XX. — THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  IN  NEW  JERSEY        .     192 

XXI. — MILLE-FLEURS  ......     201 

XXII. — A    DISAGREEABLE    HOUR    WITH    A    DIS 
AGREEABLE  MAN         .         .         .         .212 

XXIII. — IN  MY  OFFICE 224 

XXIV. — AN  OLD  CATASTROPHE  is  RECALLED  .     239 

XXV. — A  SUMMONS 255 

XXVI. — FERRY  LIGHTS 262 

XXVII.— RAIN 272 

XXVIII. — BY  THE  LIGHT  OF  A  GUTTERING  CANDLE.     282 

XXIX. — THE  QUIET  HOUR 313 

XXX. — AN  UNEXPECTED  ALLY      .         .         .         .320 

XXXI. SWEETWATER    HAS    AN    IDEA         .  .  .327 

XXXII. — WITH  THE   SHADE   DOWN  ....  336 
XXXIII. — IN  WHICH  WE   CAN    PARDON  MR.   GRYCE 

HIS  UNFORTUNATE  ILLNESS         .         .  344 

XXXIV. — "!T  WAS  THE  SHOCK!"     ....  352 

XXXV.— ROSES 363 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

1 '  That  of  a  hand  holding  a  bottle. "    Frontispiece 
' '  One  hand  was  pressed  against  his  heart"         4 

"  Crouched  against  the  farther  wall,  with 
wide-extended  eyes  fixed  full  upon 
us"  .  .  .  .  .  -30 

"I  saw  her  wild  figure  jump  out  and 
plunge  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
river"  ......  186 

"In  two  minutes  I  was  under  that  open 

window".         .....     276 

"She  glided  into  our  presence  in  one  rapt 
urous  whirl "  .  .  .  .  .  296 


ONE  OF  MY  SONS 


BOOK    I 
THE   SHADOW 


I  WAS  walking  at  a  rapid  pace  up  the  avenue  one 
raw,  fall  evening,  when  somewhere  near  the  corner 
of  Fifty Street  I  was  brought  to  a  sudden  stand 
still  by  the  sound  of  a  child's  voice  accosting  me  from 
the  stoop  of  one  of  the  handsome  houses  I  was  then 
passing. 

"O  sir!"  it  cried,  "please  come  in.  Please  come 
to  grandpa.  He  's  sick  and  wants  you." 

Surprised,  for  I  knew  no  one  on  the  block,  I  glanced 
up  and  saw  bending  from  the  open  doorway  the  trem 
bling  figure  of  a  little  girl,  with  a  wealth  of  curly  hair 
blowing  about  her  sweet,  excited  face. 

"You  have  made  a  mistake,"  I  called  up  to  her. 
"  I  am  not  the  person  you  suppose.  I  am  a  stranger. 
Tell  me  whom  you  know  about  here  and  I  will  see 
that  someone  comes  to  your  grandpa." 

i 


2  THE   SHADOW 

But  this  did  not  satisfy  her.  Running  down  the 
stoop,  she  seized  me  by  the  arm  with  childish  impetu 
osity,  crying:  "No,  no.  There  is  n't  time.  Grand 
pa  told  me  to  bring  in  the  first  man  I  saw  going  by. 
You  are  the  first  man.  Come!" 

There  was  urgency  in  her  tones,  and  unconsciously 
I  began  to  yield  to  her  insistence,  and  allow  myself  to 
be  drawn  towards  the  stoop. 

"Who  is  your  grandpa?"  I  asked,  satisfied  from 
the  imposing  look  of  the  house  that  he  must  be  a  man 
of  some  prominence.  "If  he  is  sick  there  are  the 
servants" — But  here  her  little  foot  came  down  in 
infantile  impatience. 

"Grandpa  never  waits!"  she  cried,  dragging  me 
with  her  small  hands  up  the  stoop  and  into  the  open 
door.  "If  you  don't  hurry  he  '11  think  I  did  n't  do 
as  he  told  me." 

What  man  would  not  have  yielded?  The  hall,  as 
seen  from  the  entrance,  was  wide  and  unusually  rich. 
Indeed,  an  air  of  the  highest  respectability,  as  well  as 
of  unbounded  wealth,  characterised  the  whole  estab 
lishment;  and  however  odd  the  adventure  appeared, 
it  certainly  offered  nothing  calculated  to  awaken  dis 
trust.  Entering  with  her,  I  shut  the  door  behind  me. 
In  an  instant  she  was  half-way  down  the  hall. 

"  Here!  here!"  she  cried,  pausing  before  a  door  near 
its  end. 

The  confidence  with  which  she  summoned  me  (I 
sometimes  wonder  if  my  countenance  conveys  more 
than  the  ordinary  amount  of  good  nature)  and  the 
pretty  picture  she  made,  standing  in  the  flood  of  light 
which  poured  from  the  unseen  apartment  toward 


THE    CHILD,    AND   WHAT  SHE  LED  ME  INTO     3 

which  she  beckoned  me,  lured  me  on  till  I  reached 
her  side,  and  stood  in  full  view  of  a  scene  which  cer 
tainly  justified  her  fear  if  not  the  demand  she  made 
upon  a  passing  stranger. 

In  the  midst  of  a  small  room,  plain  as  any  office,  I 
saw  an  elderly  gentleman  standing  who,  even  to  my 
unaccustomed  eyes,  seemed  to  be  not  simply  ill,  but 
in  the  throes  of  actual  dissolution. 

Greatly  disturbed,  for  I  had  anticipated  nothing  so 
serious,  I  turned  to  fly  for  assistance,  when  the  little 
child,  rushing  by  me,  caught  her  grandfather  by  the 
knees  and  gave  me  such  a  look,  I  had  not  the  heart  to 
leave  her. 

Indeed  it  would  have  been  cruel  to  do  so.  The  ap 
pearance  and  attitude  of  the  sick  man  were  startling 
even  to  me.  Though  in  a  state  bordering  on  death, 
he  was,  as  I  have  said,  standing,  not  lying,  and  his  tall 
figure  swaying  against  the  large  table  to  which  he 
clung,  formed  a  picture  of  mental  and  physical  suffer 
ing  such  as  I  had  never  before  seen,  and  can  never  in 
all  my  life  to  come,  forget.  One  hand  was  pressed 
against  his  heart,  but  the  other,  outspread  in  a  des 
perate  attempt  to  support  his  weight,  had  fallen  on 
some  half-dozen  sheets  or  so  of  typewritten  paper, 
which,  slipping  under  the  pressure  put  upon  them, 
kept  him  tottering,  though  he  did  not  fall.  He  was 
looking  my  way,  and  as  I  advanced  into  the  room, 
his  collapsing  frame  shook  with  sudden  feeling,  and 
the  hand  which  he  held  clenched  over  his  heart  opened 
slightly,  revealing  a  scrap  of  paper  crushed  between 
his  fingers. 

Struck  with  compassion,  for  the  contrast  was  pitiful 


4  THE   SHADOW 

between  his  naturally  imposing  appearance  and  his 
present  helplessness,  I  murmured  some  words  of  sym 
pathy  and  encouragement,  and  then  supposing  him 
to  be  alone  in  the  house  with  his  grandchild,  inquired 
what  I  could  do  to  serve  him. 

He  cast  a  meaning  glance  down  at  his  hand,  then 
seeing  that  I  did  not  understand  him,  made  a  super 
human  effort  and  held  that  member  out,  uttering 
some  inarticulate  words  which  I  was  able  to  construe 
into  a  prayer  to  take  from  him  the  paper  which  his 
stiffening  clutch  made  it  difficult  for  him  to  release. 

Touched  by  his  extremity,  and  anxious  to  afford 
him  all  the  solace  his  desperate  case  demanded,  I 
drew  the  paper  from  between  his  fingers.  As  I  did 
so  I  noted,  first,  that  it  was  a  portion  of  one  of  the 
sheets  I  saw  scattered  about  on  every  side,  and,  sec 
ondly,  that  it  was  folded  together  as  if  intended  for 
someone's  private  perusal. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  this?"  I  asked,  consulting 
his  eye  over  which  a  glaze  was  fast  forming. 

He  let  his  own  glance  wander  eagerly  till  it  fell 
upon  some  envelopes,  then  it  became  fixed,  and  I 
understood. 

Drawing  out  one,  I  placed  the  slip  in  it,  and  fasten 
ing  the  envelope,  consulted  his  face  with  a  smile. 

He  answered  with  a  look  so  full  of  thanks,  apprecia 
tion,  and  confidence  that  I  felt  abashed.  Something 
of  more  than  ordinary  significance  was  conveyed  by 
that  look,  and  I  was  about  to  ask  what  name  I  should 
write  on  the  envelope,  when  the  faint  sounds  with 
which  he  had  been  trying  to  express  his  secret  wishes 
became  articulate,  and  I  heard  these  words: 


"ONE   HAND  WAS  PRESSED  AGAINST   HIS  HEART  : 


THE    CHILD,    AND   WHAT  SHE  LED  ME  INTO     5 


"To  no  one — no  one  else!     To — to- 


Alas!  at  this  critical  moment  and  just  as  the  name 
was  faltering  on  his  lips,  his  utterance  failed.  He 
strove  for  expression,  but  no  words  would  come. 

In  a  desperation,  which  was  but  the  faint  reflection 
of  his  own,  I  tried  to  help  him. 

"Is  it  for  your  lawyer?"  I  suggested;  then,  as  he 
made  no  sign,  I  hastily  added:  "For  your  doctor? 
For  your  wife?  For  anyone  in  the  house?" 

He  gave  me  one  supreme  look,  raised  his  eyes,  and 
for  an  instant  stood  in  an  attitude  so  expressive  of  joy 
and  indefinable  expectancy  that  I  was  astonished 
beyond  words  and  forgot  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of 
death.  But  only  for  a  moment.  While  I  was  still 
marvelling  at  this  sudden  change  in  him,  the  child 
who  was  clinging  to  him  uttered  a  terrified  scream 
and  unloosed  her  arms.  Then  I  saw  him  sink,  gasp, 
and  fall  forward,  and,  springing,  caught  him  in  my 
arms  before  his  head  could  touch  the  floor.  Alas!  it 
was  the  last  service  I  could  render  him.  By  the  time 
I  had  laid  him  down  he  had  expired,  and  I  found  my 
self,  in  no  other  company  than  that  of  a  trembling 
child,  bending  above  the  dead  body  of  a  man  who 
with  his  last  breath  had  charged  me  with  a  commis 
sion  of  whose  purport  I  understood  nothing,  save  that 
under  no  circumstances  and  upon  no  pretext  was  I  to 
deliver  the  letter  he  had  entrusted  to  me,  to  anyone 
but  the  person  for  whom  it  was  intended. 

But  who  was  this  person?  Ah,  that  was  the  ques 
tion  !  Certainly  my  position  in  this  house  of  strangers 
was  a  most  extraordinary  one. 


II 


MEANWHILE  the  child  had  started  down  the 
hall,  and  up  the  stairs,  calling: 

"Papa!    Papa!" 

Startled  by  this  intimation  of  another  person's 
presence  in  a  house  I  had  supposed  to  hold  no  one 
but  ourselves,  I  hastily  followed  her  till  she  reached 
the  floor  above  and  paused  before  a  shut  door.  Here 
something  seemed  to  restrain  her. 

"Papa  's  inside,"  she  whispered. 

If  this  was  so,  he  was  not  alone.  Laughter,  quick 
exclamations,  and  the  clink  of  glasses  could  plainly 
be  heard  through  the  door;  and  shocked  at  the  con 
trast  offered  by  this  scene  of  mirth  to  the  solemn 
occurrence  which  had  just  taken  place  below,  I  hesi 
tated  to  enter,  and  looked  about  for  some  means  of 
communicating  with  the  servants  who  I  now  felt 
must  be  below.  But  here  the  terrified  child,  who  was 
clinging  to  my  knee,  interposed: 

"  I  do  not  think  papa  is  there.  Papa  does  not  like 
cards.  Uncle  George  does.  Come,  let  's  look  for 
papa." 

She  dragged  me  toward  the  front  of  the  house, 
entered  another  room,  and  seemed  surprised 
to  find  the  light  turned  down  and  her  papa  gone. 

6 


THE   YOUNG  DOCTOR  AND  THE   OLD  7 

"  Perhaps  he  is  with  Uncle  Alph,"  she  faltered,  and, 
bounding  up  another  flight  of  stairs,  turned  around 
to  see  if  I  was  behind  her. 

There  seemed  no  alternative  left  but  to  follow  her 
till  I  came  upon  someone  ;  so  I  hastened  up  this 
second  staircase.  She  had  already  entered  a  room. 

"O  Uncle  Alph!"  I  heard  her  cry.  "Grandpa's 
lying  on  the  floor  downstairs.  I  cannot  find  papa. 
I  'm  so  frightened,"  and  she  ran  sobbing  towards  the 
young  man,  who  rose  to  receive  her  in  an  ab 
straction  which  even  these  startling  words  failed  to 
break. 

For  this  and  other  reasons  I  noticed  him  particularly 
notwithstanding  the  embarrassment  of  my  own  posi 
tion.  He  was  a  handsome  man  of  the  luxury-loving 
type,  whose  characteristics  it  would  be  useless  to  de 
scribe,  since  they  were  of  a  nature  to  suggest,  rather 
than  explain  the  extent  of  his  attractions.  I  after 
wards  heard  from  such  of  my  friends  as  were  in  the 
habit  of  walking  the  avenue  with  him,  that  he  never 
failed  to  draw  the  attention  of  passers-by ;  something 
in  his  features,  his  carriage,  or  the  turn  of  his  head  and 
shoulders  stamping  him  as  a  man  worth  looking  at, 
not  only  once,  but  twice.  At  this  moment,  however, 
I  was  not  so  much  impressed  by  his  good  looks,  as  by 
his  uneasy  and  feverish  expression. 

He  had  caught  up  a  letter  which  he  had  been  en 
gaged  in  writing  at  our  entrance,  and  as  the  child's 
appeal  rang  out,  he  crumpled  it  nervously  in  his 
hand,  and  dropped  it  into  the  waste-paper  basket. 
As  a  certain  furtive  haste  characterised  this  action, 
my  attention  was  caught  by  it,  and  I  found  myself 


8  THE   SHADOW 

wondering  whether  it  was  a  letter  or  memorandum 
he  thus  sacrificed  to  his  surprise. 

Meanwhile  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  take  in  what 
the  little  one  wanted.  Evidently  he  had  not  as  yet 
noticed  me  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  I  thought 
it  best  to  introduce  myself. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  I,  "I  am  Arthur  Outh- 
waite  of  the  firm  of  Robinson  &  Outhwaite,  lawyers. 
I  was  passing  by  the  house  when  this  child  called  me 
in  to  the  assistance  of  her  grandfather  whom,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  I  found  in  a  very  precarious  condition 
in  his  study  downstairs.  If  he  is  your  father,  you 
have  my  sympathy  for  his  sudden  demise.  He  died 
in  my  arms  a  moment  ago ;  and  having  been  the  wit 
ness  of  his  last  moments,  I  could  not  leave  the  house 
without  explaining  my  position  to  his  relatives." 

"Dead!     Father?" 

It  was  not  grief,  it  was  hardly  astonishment  which 
gave  force  to  this  brief  and  involuntary  exclamation. 
It  was  something  quite  different,  something  which  it 
shocked  me  to  hear  in  his  tones  and  see  sparkle  in  his 
eye.  But  this  expression,  whatever  it  betokened, 
lasted  but  a  moment.  Catching  up  the  child  in  his 
arms,  he  hid  his  face  behind  her  and  rushed  towards 
the  door.  Me  he  hardly  noticed. 

"Where  is  he?"  he  asked,  ignoring  or  forgetting 
what  I  had  told  him. 

It  was  the  child  who  answered. 

"In  the  den,  Uncle  Alph.  Don't  take  me  there; 
I 'm  afraid.  Set  me  down;  I  want  to  find  Hope." 

He  hastily  obeyed  her,  and  the  child  ran  away. 
Then,  and  only  then,  he  seemed  to  take  in  my  presence. 


THE   YOUNG  DOCTOR  AND  THE   OLD  9 

"You  were  called  in  from  the  street?"  he  wonder- 
ingly  observed;  "  I  don't  understand  it.  Where  were 
my  brothers  ?  They  were  near  enough  to  render  him 
assistance.  Why  should  a  stranger  be  called  in?" 

This  was  a  question  for  which  I  had  no  answer,  so 
I  made  none.  He  did  not  seem  to  be  struck  by  the 
omission. 

"Let  us  go  down,"  said  he. 

I  opened  the  door  which  the  little  one  had  closed 
behind  her,  and  proceeded  toward  the  stair-head. 
From  certain  indistinct  noises  which  I  had  heard 
during  the  foregoing  short  interchange  of  words,  I  ex 
pected  to  find  the  house  in  a  state  of  alarm  and  every 
one  alert.  But  the  card-players  were  still  at  their 
game  on  the  floor  below,  and  I  was  not  surprised  to 
see  my  companion  pause  and  give  an  admonitory  kick 
to  the  door  through  which  such  incongruous  noises 
issued. 

"Father  's  ill!"  he  shouted  in  a  voice  hoarse  with 
many  passions;  and  waiting  for  no  reply,  he  rushed 
ahead  of  me  down-stairs,  followed  by  some  half-dozen 
partially  sobered  men. 

Among  these  latter  I  noticed  one  whom  I  took  to 
be  the  elder  brother  of  him  whom  the  little  one  had 
addressed  as  Uncle  Alph.  He  had  the  same  com 
manding  appearance,  the  same  abstracted  air,  and 
woke,  when  he  did  wake,  to  the  same  curious  condi 
tion  of  conflicting  emotions.  But  I  did  not  have 
time  to  dwell  long  upon  this  feature  of  the  extra 
ordinary  affair  in  which  I  had  become  thus  curi 
ously  involved. 

The  alarm  which  had  been  so  slow  in  spreading 


IO  THE   SHADOW 

above,  had  passed  like  wildfire  through  the  lower  part 
of  the  house,  and  we  found  some  half-dozen  servants 
standing  in  and  about  the  small  room  where  the  mas 
ter  of  the  house  lay  stretched.  Some  were  wringing 
their  hands,  some  were  crying,  and  some,  rigid  with 
terror,  stared  at  the  face  they  had  so  lately  seen  with 
the  hue  of  health  upon  it. 

At  our  approach  they  naturally  withdrew  to  the 
hall,  and  I  presently  found  myself  standing  between 
the  group  thus  formed  and  the  three  or  four  young 
gentlemen  visitors  who  had  not  followed  the  brothers 
into  the  room.  Amongst  the  latter  I  saw  one  whose 
face  was  not  altogether  unfamiliar,  and  it  was  from 
him  that  I  gained  my  first  information  concerning 
the  man  to  whose  dying  passion  I  had  been  witness, 
and  from  whom  I  had  received  the  strange  commis 
sion  which,  unknown  to  those  about  me,  made  my 
continued  presence  in  this  house  a  necessity  from 
which  the  embarrassment  of  the  occasion  could  not 
release  me. 

The  dead  man  was  Archibald  Gillespie,  the  well- 
known  stockbroker  and  railroad  magnate,  whose 
name,  as  well  as  those  of  his  three  spendthrift  sons, 
was  in  every  man's  mouth  since  that  big  deal  by 
which  he  had  made  two  millions  in  less  than  two 
months. 

Meanwhile  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  had  accom 
panied  the  two  Gillespies  into  the  room  where  their 
father  lay,  came  out  looking  very  pale.  He  was  a 
doctor,  though  to  all  appearance  not  the  family 
physician. 

"Will  one  of  you  go  for  Dr.  Bennett?"  he  asked. 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  AND  THE   OLD          II 

"Bring  him  at  once  and  at  any  cost;  Mr.  Gillespie 
cannot  be  moved  till  he  comes." 

Dr.  Bennett  evidently  was  the  family  physician. 

"  Why  can't  he  be  moved? "  called  out  a  voice  near 
me.  "Is  there  anything  wrong?  Mr.  Gillespie  was 
violently  sick  a  month  ago.  I  suppose  he  got  around 
too  quickly." 

But  the  young  doctor,  without  replying,  stepped 
back  into  the  room,  leaving  us  all  agog,  though  few 
of  us  ventured  upon  open  remonstrance. 

In  another  minute  one  of  the  men  near  me  slipped 
out  in  obedience  to  the  request  just  made. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Gillespie  living?"  I  asked,  after  a  moment 
spent  in  more  or  less  indecision. 

"Where  have  you  come  from?"  was  the  answer 
given,  seasoned  by  a  stare  I  bore  with  what  equa 
nimity  I  could.  "Mrs.  Gillespie  has  been  dead  these 
fifteen  years." 

So !  the  letter  was  not  meant  for  his  wife. 

Here  I  caught  an  eye  fixed  on  mine.  It  was  that 
of  one  of  the  servants  who  stood  huddled  about  the 
doorway  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  large  dining-room 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall.  When  this  man,  for 
it  was  a  male  servant,  saw  that  he  had  attracted  my 
attention,  he  made  me  an  imperceptible  sign.  As  he 
was  old  and  grey-haired,  I  heeded  the  sign  he  made 
and  stepped  towards  him.  Instantly  he  greeted  me 
with  the  whisper: 

"  You  seem  to  be  the  only  sober  man  here.  Don't 
let  them  do  anything  till  Mr.  Leighton  comes  in.  He 
is  the  saint  of  the  family,  sir." 

"Is  he  the  little  girl's  father?"  I  asked. 


12  THE   SHADOW 

The  man  nodded.  "And  a  good  man,  too,"  he  in 
sisted.  "A  very  good  man." 

Was  this  honest  judgment  or  sarcasm?  I  had 
heard  that  each  of  Mr.  Gillespie's  sons  had  given  his 
father  no  end  of  trouble. 

Meantime  a  silence  deeper  than  that  of  awe  had 
spread  throughout  the  house.  Feeling  myself  out  of 
place  and  yet  strangely  in  place,  I  drew  aside  into  as 
inconspicuous  a  corner  as  I  could  find,  and  waited  as 
all  the  others  did,  for  the  family  physician. 

While  doing  so  I  caught  stray  glimpses  of  my  first 
acquaintance,  Alfred  Gillespie,  who,  fretted  by  some 
anxiety  he  could  not  altogether  conceal,  came  more 
than  once  into  the  hall  and  threw  furtive  glances  up 
the  stairway.  Was  it  the  little  girl  he  was  concerned 
about?  If  so,  I  shared  his  anxiety. 

At  last  the  bell  rang.  Instantly,  so  great  was  the 
strain  upon  us,  we  all  moved,  and  one  or  two  bounded 
towards  the  door.  But  it  was  opened  by  the  butler 
with  that  mechanical  habitude  such  old  servants  ac 
quire,  and,  though  nothing  could  shake  the  calm 
deference  of  this  trained  domestic,  there  was  some 
thing  in  the  bow  with  which  he  greeted  the  new 
comer  which  assured  us  that  the  man  we  so  anxiously 
expected  had  arrived. 

I  had  seen  Dr.  Bennett  more  than  once,  but  never 
before  showing  so  much  anxiety.  Whether  from 
shock  or  some  secret  cause  not  to  be  communicated 
to  us,  this  old  and  capable  physician  seemed  to  be  in  a 
condition  of  as  much  agitation  as  ourselves,  and 
obeyed  the  summons  of  the  young  doctor  who  stood 
beckoning  to  him  from  the  threshold  of  the  little  den, 


THE   YOUNG  DOCTOR   AND  THE   OLD  13 

with  an  appearance  of  alacrity  that  nevertheless  had 
an  odd  element  of  hesitation  in  it.  I  might  not  have 
noticed  this  under  other  circumstances,  and  am  quite 
sure  that  no  one  else  detected  any  peculiarity  in  his 
manner,  but  to  me,  everything  was  important  which 
offered  anything  like  a  clue  to  the  proper  understand 
ing  of  a  situation  in  which  I  found  myself  so  deeply, 
yet  so  secretly  involved. 

Mr.  Gillespie's  physician  remained  for  some  min 
utes  closeted  with  the  sons  of  the  deceased  and  their 
young  medical  friend;  then  he  came  out.  Instantly 
I  saw  from  his  expression  that  our  fears  or  rather, 
those  of  the  young  doctor,  were  not  without  founda 
tion.  Yet  he  was  careful  not  to  raise  an  alarm,  and 
in  addressing  us,  spoke  in  strictly  professional  tones: 

"A  sad  case,  gentlemen!  Mr.  Gillespie  has  taken 
an  overdose  of  chloral.  We  will  have  to  leave  him 
where  he  is  till  the  coroner  can  be  called." 

A  gasp  followed  by  the  clink  of  breaking  glass  came 
from  the  dining-room  behind  me.  The  old  butler 
had  dropped  a  glass  he  had  just  lifted  off  the  mantel 
shelf  of  the  dining-room. 

The  doctor  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment. 

"  What  is  that? "  he  demanded. 

The  butler  stooped  for  the  pieces. 

"Only  the  glass  Mr.  Gillespie  drank  out  of.  He 
asked  for  wine  a  half  hour  ago.  Your  words  fright 
ened  me,  sir." 

He  did  not  look  frightened;  but  old  servants  of  his 
stamp  possess  a  strange  immobility. 

"  I  will  pick  up  these  pieces,"  said  the  doctor,  stoop 
ing  beside  the  man. 


14  THE   SHADOW 

The  butler  drew  back.  Dr.  Bennett  picked  up  the 
pieces.  They  were  all  dry.  Evidently  the  glass  had 
been  drained. 

As  he  came  out  he  cast  a  keen  but  not  unkindly 
glance  at  the  group  of  young  men  drawn  up  in  the 
doorway. 

"Which  of  you  was  the  witness  of  Mr.  Gillespie's 
death?"  he  asked. 

I  bowed.  I  dreaded  his  questions,  yet  saw  no  way 
of  evading  them.  If  only  Mr.  Gillespie  had  been  able 
to  articulate  the  one  word  which  would  have  relieved 
me  of  all  further  responsibility  in  this  matter! 

"You  are  the  person  who  was  called  into  the  house 
by  Mr.  Gillespie's  grandchild?"  the  doctor  now  asked, 
meeting  my  eye  with  the  same  expression  of  instan 
taneous  and  complete  confidence  I  had  seen  on  the 
features  of  his  unhappy  patient. 

"  I  am,"  I  replied;  and  proceeded  to  relate  the  cir 
cumstances  with  all  the  simplicity  the  occasion  re 
quired.  Only  I  said  nothing  about  the  letter  which 
had  been  entrusted  to  me  for  delivery  to  some  un 
known  person.  How  could  I?  There  had  been  no 
encouragement  in  Mr.  Gillespie's  expression  when  I 
asked  him  if  the  note  I  had  taken  from  him  was  meant 
for  his  doctor. 

The  account  I  was  able  to  give  of  the  deceased 
broker's  last  moments  seemed  to  deepen  the  impres 
sion  which  had  been  made  upon  the  physician  by  the 
condition  in  which  he  found  him.  Taking  up  the 
pieces  of  glass  he  had  collected  from  the  dining-room 
hearth,  he  sniffed  them  carefully,  during  which  act  the 
two  sons  of  Mr.  Gillespie  watched  him  with  starting 


THE   YOUNG  DOCTOR  AND  THE   OLD  1 5 

eyes.  When  he  laid  them  down  again,  we  could 
none  of  us  conceal  our  curiosity. 

"You  have  something  dreadful  to  communicate," 
murmured  the  elder  son. 

The  doctor  hesitated ;  then  he  glanced  from  one  to 
the  other  of  the  two  handsome  faces  before  him,  and 
remarked : 

"Your  brother  is  not  here.  Do  you  know  if  he  is 
likely  to  return  soon?" 

"Where  is  Mr.  Leighton?"  inquired  Alfred,  turning 
towards  the  servants.  "I  thought  he  meant  to  re 
main  home  to-night." 

The  butler  respectfully  advanced. 

"Mr.  Leighton  went  out  an  hour  ago,"  said  he. 
"He  and  Mr.  Gillespie  had  a  few  words  in  the  den, 
sir,  after  which  he  put  on  his  hat  and  coat  and  went 
out." 

"  Did  you  see  your  master  at  that  time?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  only  heard  his  voice." 

"Did  that  sound  natural?" 

The  old  servant  seemed  loth  to  reply,  but  feeling 
the  doctor's  eye  resting  imperatively  upon  him,  he 
hesitatingly  admitted: 

"It  was  n't  quiet,  sir,  if  you  mean  that.  Mr.  Gil 
lespie  seemed  to  be  angry  or  very  much  displeased. 
He  spoke  quite  loud." 

"Where  were  you?" 

"In  the  dining-room,  sir,  putting  away  the  last  of 
the  dinner  dishes." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  your  master  said? " 

"No,  sir;  it  was  something  about  religion;  too 
much  religion." 


l6  THE   SHADOW 

"My  brother  attends  too  many  mission  services  to 
please  my  father,"  explained  Alfred  in  a  low  tone. 

The  doctor  heard,  but  did  not  take  his  eye  from  the 
old  servant. 

"Was  this  before  he  took  the  glass  of  wine  you 
have  just  told  us  he  asked  for?" 

"Yes,  sir,  just  before.  It  was  Mr.  Leighton  who 
came  for  it.  He  said  his  father  looked  tired." 

"Ah,  and  how  came  the  glass  to  be  back  then  on 
the  dining-room  mantel-shelf?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  Perhaps  Mr.  Gillespie  put  it 
there  himself.  He  never  liked  any  litter  on  his  study 
table,  sir." 

At  this  statement  the  older  brother  opened  his  lips, 
but  I  noticed  he  did  not  speak.  There  were  no  traces 
of  intoxication  about  him  now. 

"  I  wish  you  would  show  me  the  bottle  from  which 
you  poured  the  wine." 

The  butler,  whose  name  I  afterwards  learned  to  be 
Hewson,  led  the  way  to  a  large  buffet  extending  half 
across  the  dining-room  wall.  From  where  I  stood  in 
the  hall-way  I  could  see  him  pointing  out  a  bottle  of 
what  looked  like  sherry.  Suddenly  he  gave  a  start. 

"That  is  n't  the  one,"  he  cried,  loud  enough  for  me 
to  hear.  "The  bottle  I  took  out  for  Mr.  Leighton 
was  half-empty.  This  is  quite  full." 

Again  I  saw  the  lips  of  the  elder  brother  move,  and 
again  he  refrained  from  speaking. 

"I  should  like  to  have  that  bottle  found,"  said  the 
physician;  "but  no  one  need  look  for  it  now.  In 
deed,  it  would  be  better  for  us  to  wait  for  Leighton 's 
return  before  making  any  further  movement.  George, 


THE   YOUNG  DOCTOR  AND  THE   OLD  I/ 

Alfred,  may  I  ask  you  to  leave  me  alone  with  your 
father  for  a  few  minutes.  And  let  the  dining-room 
be  cleared.  I  don't  want  to  have  to  make  any  ex 
cuses  to  the  coroner  when  he  arrives.  Your  father 
has  not  died  a  natural  death." 

It  was  an  announcement  for  which  we  had  been  in 
a  measure  prepared  by  the  serious  manner  of  the 
young  doctor,  yet  it  seemed  to  me  it  ought  to  have 
occasioned  a  greater,  or  at  least  a  different  display  of 
feeling  on  the  part  of  the  two  most  intimately  con 
cerned.  I  looked  for  an  exchange  of  glances  between 
them  or  at  least  some  hurried  words  of  sorrow  or  dis 
may.  But  though  all  evinced  strong  emotion,  no 
looks  passed  between  them,  nor  did  they  make  the 
least  attempt  at  mutual  sympathy  or  encouragement. 
Were  they  not  on  confidential  terms  ?  The  moment 
certainly  was  one  to  call  out  whatever  brotherly 
feeling  they  possessed. 

"I  shall  have  to  make  use  of  the  telephone,"  Dr. 
Bennett  now  announced.  "You  must  pardon  my 
seeming  disrespect  to  the  dead.  The  occasion  de 
mands  it." 

And  with  one  hurried  look  to  see  that  his  com 
mands  had  been  obeyed,  and  that  the  dining-room 
had  been  cleared  of  the  huddling  servants,  he  stepped 
back  into  the  so-called  den  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

Next  moment  we  heard  his  voice  rise  in  the  in 
evitable  "Hallo!  " 

"I  don't  understand  Dr.  Bennett's  strange  de 
meanour,"  I  now  heard  uttered  in  remark  near  me.  It 
was  George  speaking  in  a  low  tone  to  his  brother. 


1 8  THE   SHADOW 

But  that  brother,  with  one  of  his  anxious  looks  up 
the  stairs,  failed  to  answer. 

"Father  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  chloral,  but  I 
thought  he  always  waited  until  he  got  to  his  own 
room.  I  never  knew  him  to  take  it  downstairs  be 
fore,"  George  went  on  in  a  low  tone  between  a  whisper 
and  a  grumble. 

This  time  Alfred  answered. 

' '  He  made  an  exception  to-night , ' '  said  he.  "  When 
I  ran  down  to  your  door  at  half-past  eight,  I  met 
Claire  coming  out  of  father's  room  with  a  bottle  in 
her  hand.  She  had  been  sent  up  after  the  chloral, 
and  was  taking  it  down  to  him." 

George  gave  his  brother  a  suspicious  look. 

"Did  she  say  so?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Poor  child!  She  will  miss  her  grandfather.  I 
wonder  if  she  knows?  " 

I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  listen.  But  I  was 
standing  where  the  doctor  had  left  me,  and  hardly 
knew  how  to  withdraw  till  I  had  received  my  dismissal 
from  someone  in  authority.  Yet  I  was  thinking  of 
going  farther  front  when  the  doctor  came  out  again 
and,  approaching  me,  remarked: 

"This  delay  is  probably  causing  you  great  incon 
venience.  But  I  must  ask  you  to  remain  a  short 
time  longer.  I  presume  you  can  find  a  seat  in  the 
drawing-room." 

With  a  glance  at  the  young  gentlemen,  I  expressed 
my  obligations  for  his  courtesy,  but  did  not  make  a 
move  towards  the  room  he  had  indicated. 

Instantly,  and  with  an  understanding  of  my  feel- 


THE  YOUNG  DOCTOR  AND  THE   OLD  19 

ings  which  surprised  me,  George  took  the  hint  I  had 
given  him,  and  stepping  forward,  raised  a  heavy  plush 
curtain  at  the  left  and  begged  me  to  be  seated  in  the 
richly  appointed  room  within.  But  I  had  hardly 
taken  a  step  towards  it  when  a  diversion  was  created 
by  the  entrance  into  the  house  of  a  gentleman  whom 
I  at  once  took  to  be  the  third  brother  for  whose  pres 
ence  all  waited  with  more  or  less  suspense. 

He  was  sufficiently  prepossessing  in  appearance  to 
awaken  admiration,  but  he  bore  no  resemblance  to  his 
brothers.  He  seemed  to  have  more  character  and  less 
— well,  I  find  it  difficult  to  say  just  what  impression 
he  made  upon  me  at  this  moment.  Enough  that  with 
my  first  glimpse  of  him  I  felt  confident  that  no  ordinary 
person  had  entered  upon  the  scene,  though  just  what 
special  characteristic  of  his  personality  or  disposition 
would  prove  the  emphatic  one  it  was  not  easy  to 
judge,  at  a  moment's  notice. 

He  had  a  downcast  air,  and  to  my  eyes  looked 
weary  to  the  point  of  collapse,  but  he  roused  at  the 
sight  of  a  stranger,  and  cast  an  inquiring  look  at  the 
doctor  and  then  at  the  servants  crowding  in  the  pas 
sage  beyond. 

He  evidently  took  me  for  one  of  his  brothers'  boon 
companions. 

"What 's  amiss?"  he  demanded  in  some  irritation 
— an  irritation  I  was  fain  to  construe  into  a  total  lack 
of  preparation  for  the  fatal  news  awaiting  him. 
"What  's  the  matter,  George?  What  's  the  matter, 
Alph?" 

"The  worst!"  came  in  simultaneous  reply. 

"Father  is  dead!"  cried  George. 


2O  THE   SHADOW 

"Took  too  much  chloral,"  added  Alfred. 

Leighton  Gillespie  stood  stock-still  for  a  moment, 
then  threw  off  his  hat  and  rushed  down  the  hall.  But 
at  the  door  of  what  now  might  be  called  the  chamber 
of  death,  he  found  the  doctor  standing  in  an  attitude 
which  compelled  him  to  come  to  a  sudden  stop. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  that  gentleman.  "I  have 
to  correct  an  impression.  Your  father  has  not  died 
from  an  overdose  of  chloral  as  I  had  at  first  supposed, 
but  from  a  deadly  dose  of  prussic  acid.  You  have 
only  to  smell  his  lips  to  be  certain  of  this  fact.  Now, 
Leighton,  you  may  enter." 


Ill 

WHAT    A    DOOR    HID 

IT  was  a  startling  declaration,  and  the  horror  it 
called  up  was  visible  on  every  face.  But  the 
surprise  which  should  have  accompanied  it  was  lack 
ing,  and  however  quickly  the  three  nearest  the 
deceased  man's  heart  strove  to  cover  up  their  first  in 
stinctive  acceptance  of  a  fact  so  suggestive  of  hidden 
troubles,  I  could  not  but  see  that  the  prosperous 
stock-broker  had  had  griefs,  anxieties,  or  hopes  to 
which  this  sudden  end  seemed  to  those  who  knew 
him  best,  a  natural  sequence. 

I  began  to  regret  the  chance  which  had  brought  me 
into  such  close  relations  with  this  family,  and  felt  the 
closed  envelope  in  my  pocket  weighing  on  my  breast 
like  lead. 

Meanwhile,  he  whom  they  called  Leighton  was  say 
ing  in  a  highly  strained  tone,  which  he  vainly  en 
deavoured  to  make  natural: 

"May  not  Dr.  Bennett  be  mistaken?  There  is  the 
chloral  bottle  on  the  shelf  over  the  fireplace.  We  are 
not  in  the  habit  of  seeing  it  here.  Does  not  its  pres 
ence  in  this  room  argue  that  father  felt  the  need  of  it. 
Prussic  acid  can  only  be  obtained  through  a  doctor, 
and  I  am  confident  you  never  prescribed  him  such  a 
dangerous  drug,  Dr.  Bennett." 

21 


22  THE   SHADOW 

"  No,  for  it  is  totally  inapplicable  to  his  case.  But 
you  will  find  that  he  died  from  taking  it,  Leighton; 
all  his  symptoms  show  it,  and  we  have  only  to  deter 
mine  now  whether  he  took  it  in  the  chloral,  in  the 
glass  of  wine  he  drank,  or  by  means  of  some  other 
agency  not  yet  discovered.  I  regret  to  speak  so  un 
equivocally,  but  I  never  mince  matters  where  my 
profession  is  concerned.  And,  besides,  the  coroner 
would  not  show  you  this  consideration  even  if  I  did. 
The  fact  is  too  patent." 

They  were  now  inside  the  study  and  I  did  not  hear 
Leighton's  reply,  but  when  they  all  came  out  again, 
I  saw  that  the  latter  had  not  only  accepted  the  situa 
tion,  but  that  he  had  been  informed  of  the  part  I  had 
been  called  upon  to  play  in  this  matter.  This  was 
apparent  from  the  way  he  greeted  me,  and  the  ques 
tions  he  put  concerning  his  child's  conduct  during  the 
last  terrible  moments  of  her  grandfather's  life. 

As  he  did  this  I  had  a  fuller  opportunity  for  study 
ing  his  face.  It  was  the  most  melancholy  one  I  had 
ever  seen,  and  what  struck  me  as  being  worthy  of 
remark  was  that  this  melancholy  seemed  a  settled 
one  and  quite  apart  from  the  present  grief  and  dis 
turbance.  Yet  he  had  been  heavily  shaken  by  his 
father's  sudden  if  not  inexplicable  death,  or  ap 
peared  to  be,  which  possibly  is  not  quite  the  same 
thing. 

"I  do  not  understand  why  my  father  should  have 
called  anyone  in  from  the  street  to  witness  his  suffer 
ings  while  he  had  sons  in  the  house,"  he  courteously 
remarked  ;  "but  having  felt  this  necessity  and  having 
succeeded  in  obtaining  such  help,  I  am  glad  that 


WHAT  A    DOOR  HID  2$ 

chance  favoured  him  and  us  with  a  person  of  such 
apparent  good  feeling  as  yourself." 

I  scarcely  heeded  him.  I  was  pondering  over  the 
letter  and  whether  I  should  pass  it  over  to  this  man. 
But  instinct  withheld  me,  or  rather  my  lawyer-like 
habits  which  happily  acted  as  a  restraint  upon  my 
natural  impulse.  I  had  received  no  intimation  as  yet 
that  it  was  intended  for  any  of  Mr.  Gillespie's  sons. 

"You  will  oblige  us  by  waiting  for  the  coroner?" 
he  now  went  on.  "  He  has  telephoned  that  he  will  be 
here  immediately." 

"I  shall  wait,"  I  said.  And  it  was  by  his  invita 
tion  I  now  stepped  into  the  parlour. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour,  a  half-hour,  passed  before  the 
front  door  bell  rang  again.  From  the  hubbub  which 
ensued,  I  knew  that  the  man  we  wished  for  had  ar 
rived,  but  it  was  a  long  while  before  he  entered  the 
room  in  which  I  sat,  during  which  tedious  interim  I 
had  to  possess  my  soul  in  patience.  But  at  last  I 
heard  his  step  on  the  threshold,  and  looking  up,  I  be 
held  a  spare,  earnest  man  who  approached  me  with 
great  seriousness,  and  sat  down  near  enough  to  in 
dulge  in  confidential  talk  without  running  the  risk  of 
being  heard  by  anyone. 

"  You  are  Mr.  Outhwaite,"  he  began.  "  I  have  heard 
of  your  firm  and  have  more  than  once  seen  Mr.  Rob 
inson.  Had  you  any  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Gillespie 
or  his  family  before  to-night?" 

"No,  sir;  Mr.  Gillespie  was  known  to  me  only  by 
reputation." 

"Then  it  was  pure  chance  which  led  you  to  be  a 
witness  of  his  final  moments?" 


24  THE   SHADOW 

"Pure  chance,  if  we  do  not  believe  in  Providence," 
I  returned. 

He  surveyed  me  quite  intently 

"Relate  what  passed." 

Now  here  was  a  dilemma.  Did  my  duty  exact  a 
revelation  of  the  facts  which  I  had  hitherto  felt 
obliged  to  keep  even  from  the  deceased  man's  sons? 
It  was  a  question  not  to  be  decided  in  a  moment,  so  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  be  guided  by  developments,  and 
confined  my  narration  to  a  recapitulation  of  my 
former  plain  account  of  Mr.  Gillespie's  last  moments. 
This  narrative  I  made  as  simple  as  I  could.  When  I 
had  finished  he  asked  if  Mr.  Gillespie's  grandchild  had 
been  present  at  the  moment  her  grandfather  expired. 

I  answered  that  she  had  been  clinging  to  him  all 
the  time  he  remained  erect,  but  shrank  back  and  ran 
out  of  the  room  the  moment  he  gave  signs  of  falling 
to  the  floor. 

"Did  he  speak  to  her?" 

"Not  that  I  heard." 

"Did  he  say  anything?" 

"A  few  inarticulate  words,  no  names." 

"  He  did  not  ask  for  his  sons? " 

"No." 

"  For  none  of  them?" 

"No." 

"  How  came  the  alarm  to  be  spread?" 

"  I  went  up  with  the  child  and  called  the  young  men 
down." 

Coroner  Frisbie  stroked  his  chin,  still  looking  at 
me  intently. 

"Was  there  an  empty  phial  or  a  piece  of  paper 


WHAT  A   DOOR  HID  2$ 

lying  about  on  the  study-table  or  on  the  floor  when 
you  went  in?" 

I  started. 

"Paper?"  I  repeated.      "What  kind  of  paper?" 

"Such  as  is  used  by  druggists  and  physicians  in 
rolling  up  their  prescriptions.  The  prussic  acid 
which  Mr.  Gillespie  has  evidently  taken  must  have 
been  bought  in  liquid  form.  The  bottle  which  held 
it  should  be  lying  about  and  possibly  the  paper  in 
which  it  was  wrapped.  That  is,  if  this  poison  was 
swallowed  intentionally  by  Mr.  Gillespie." 

I  recalled  the  exact  look  of  the  scrap  of  paper  I  had 
put  into  an  envelope  at  this  gentleman's  request.  It 
was  not  such  a  one  as  is  used  by  druggists  in  wrapping 
up  parcels,  and  I  felt  my  breast  grow  lighter  by  a 
degree. 

"I  did  not  see  any  such  paper." 

"Where  is  the  little  girl?"  he  now  queried.  "I 
must  see  her." 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  one  thing.  If  the  child 
said  that  I  had  been  given  a  paper  by  her  grandfather 
I  would  acknowledge  it  and  produce  the  envelope. 
But  if  she  had  forgotten  the  fact  or  had  been  too 
frightened  to  notice  it,  I  would  preserve  silence  in 
regard  to  it  a  little  longer,  in  the  hope  of  being  shown 
a  way  out  of  my  difficulty. 

I  was  therefore  not  sorry  to  hear  him  ask  for  the 
little  girl. 

"  I  take  it  that  you  are  not  anxious  to  remain  here," 
he  now  remarked.  "  If  you  will  give  me  your  address 
and  hold  yourself  in  readiness  to  obey  my  summons, 
I  can  excuse  you  for  the  night." 


2,6  THE   SHADOW 

For  answer  I  held  out  my  card,  and  seeing  that  I 
had  no  further  excuse  for  lingering,  was  moving 
toward  the  door,  when  Dr.  Bennett  came  hurriedly  in. 

"I  have  found  something — "  he  began,  and  then 
paused  with  a  quick  glance  in  my  direction,  as  if 
questioning  the  propriety  of  proceeding  further  with 
his  discovery  in  my  presence. 

The  coroner  showed  no  such  hesitation.  Hasten 
ing  to  meet  the  old  family  physician,  he  said: 

"You  have  found  the  bottle  or  only  the  paper  in 
which  the  bottle  was  wrapped?" 

Dr.  Bennett  drew  him  aside,  and  I  saw  what  looked 
like  a  small  cork  pass  between  them. 

"Was  it  in  Mr.  Gillespie's  study  you  found  this?" 
queried  the  coroner.  "I  thought  I  had  thoroughly 
searched  the  study." 

The  answer  was  uttered  in  the  lowest  of  low  tones, 
but  I  had  no  difficulty  in  catching  the  gist  of  what  he 
said. 

"  It  was  on  the  dining-room  floor,  under  the  edge  of 
the  rug.  A  very  suspicious  fact,  don't  you  think  so? 
Mr.  Gillespie  would  never  have  thrust  it  there. 
Some  other  person — don't  know  who — not  say  any 
thing  yet  —  shrink  from  seeing  the  police  in  this 
house." 

The  two  doctors  interchanged  a  look  which  I  sur 
prised  in  the  large  mirror  opposite.  But  I  gave  no 
sign  of  having  seen  anything  extraordinary.  I  felt 
too  keenly  the  delicacy  of  my  own  position.  Next 
minute  we  were  all  walking  towards  the  hall. 

"Silence!"  came  in  admonitory  tones  from  the 
coroner  as  we  paused  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold. 


WHAT  A    DOOR  HID  2J 

"  Let  us  not  disturb  the  young  men  any  further  than 
is  necessary  to  night." 

At  that  moment  we  heard  the  cry: 

"Where  is  Miss  Meredith?  Has  anyone  seen  Miss 
Meredith?  I  cannot  find  her  in  any  of  the  rooms 
upstairs." 

"Hope!  Hope!  Where  are  you,  Hope?"  called 
out  another  voice,  charged  with  feeling. 

Hope!  Did  my  heart  beat  faster  as  this  name, 
destined  to  play  such  a  part  in  my  future  life,  was 
sounded  in  my  ears  ?  I  cannot  say.  That  heart  has 
beat  often  enough  since  at  the  utterance  of  this  sweet 
monosyllable,  but  at  that  time — well,  I  think  I  was 
too  interested  in  the  alarm  which  this  cry  instantly 
raised,  to  note  my  personal  sensations.  From  one 
end  of  the  house  to  the  other,  men  and  women  rushed 
from  room  to  room,  and  I  heard  not  only  this  name 
called  out,  but  that  of  the  child,  which  it  seems  was 
Claire. 

"  Cannot  the  child  be  found  either? "  I  inquired  im 
petuously  of  the  coroner  who  still  lingered  in  the  lower 
hall. 

"It  seems  not.     Who  is  Miss  Meredith?" 

It  was  the  old  butler  who  answered  him. 

"She  is  the  young  gentlemen's  cousin,"  said  he. 
"She  was  a  great  favourite  with  Mr.  Gillespie,  and 
lived  here  like  a  daughter.  They  will  find  her  some 
where  upstairs." 

But  the  prophecy  proved  to  be  a  false  one.  Slowly 
the  servants  came  creeping  down  whispering  among 
themselves  and  looking  very  much  frightened.  Then 
we  saw  George  descend  shaking  his  head  impatiently, 


28  THE   SHADOW 

and  then  Leighton,  wild  with  an  anxiety  for  which  he 
had  no  name. 

"She  must  be  here!"  he  cried,  thinking  only  of  his 
child.  "Claire!  Claire!"  And  he  began  running 
through  the  great  drawing-room  where  we  knew  she 
could  not  be. 

Alfred  had  remained  above. 

Suddenly  I  recalled  a  fact  connected  with  my  own 
visit  upstairs. 

"  Have  they  been  up  to  the  fourth  floor? "  I  inquired 
of  Dr.  Bennett.  "When  I  was  in  Mr.  Alfred  Gilles- 
pie's  room  on  the  third  floor,  I  remember  hearing 
someone  rush  through  the  hall.  I  supposed  at  that 
time  it  was  someone  going  below.  But  it  may  have 
been  someone  going  higher  up." 

"Let  us  go  see!"  the  doctor  suggested. 

I  followed  him  without  a  thought.  As  we  passed 
Alfred's  door,  we  could  see  him  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  in  a  state  of  rage  which  made  him  ob 
livious  of  our  approach.  He  was  tearing  into  morsels 
a  piece  of  paper  which  had  the  same  appearance  as 
the  one  he  had  formerly  thrust  into  the  waste-paper 
basket,  and  as  he  tore,  he  muttered  words  amongst 
which  I  caught  the  following: 

"Why  should  I  write?  If  she  loved  me  she  would 
wait.  She  would  not  run  away  now,  unless  he " 

Dr.  Bennett,  with  his  finger  on  his  lip,  slid  by.  I 
hastened  after  him,  and  together  we  mounted  the  last 
flight. 

We  were  now  in  a  portion  of  the  building  as  new  to 
the  doctor  as  to  myself.  When  we  reached  the  top  of 
the  stairs  we  found  the  whole  place  dark  save  for  a 


WHA  T  A    DOOR  HID  2$ 

little  glimmer  towards  the  front  which  proved  to  be  a 
gas-jet  burning  low  in  one  of  the  attic  rooms. 

Turning  this  up  we  looked  around,  opened  a  closet- 
door  or  two,  then  walked  into  the  back,  where  the 
doctor  struck  a  match.  Two  closed  doors  met  our 
eyes.  One  of  these  upon  being  opened  disclosed  a 
well-furnished  room,  similar  in  appearance  to  those  in 
front,  the  other  an  unfinished  garret  half  filled  with 
trunks  and  boxes. 

"  Well! "  he  ejaculated,  as  the  match  went  out  upon 
this  scene.  "  This  is  a  mystery." 

"Hark!"  I  urged  ;  "our  ears  rather  than  our  eyes 
must  do  service  in  this  emergency." 

He  took  the  hint,  and  together  we  listened  till  some 
sound — was  it  the  breathing  of  a  person  concealed 
near  us? — caused  us  both  to  start  and  the  doctor  to 
light  another  match. 

This  time  we  saw  something,  but  the  match  went 
out  before  we  could  determine  what. 

Annoyed  by  these  momentary  flashes  of  light,  I 
dashed  back  into  one  of  the  rooms  we  had  left,  and 
catching  up  a  candle  I  had  previously  noted  there,  lit 
it  at  the  gas-jet,  and  proceeded  back  with  it  to  this 
garret  room. 

Instantly  a  sight  full  of  the  strangest  interest  re 
vealed  itself. 

Crouched  against  the  farther  wall,  with  wide- 
extended  eyes  fixed  full  upon  us,  we  perceived  a 
woman,  upon  whose  pallid  face  and  risen  locks  terror 
or  some  other  equally  emphatic  passion  had  so  fixed 
its  impress  that  she  looked  like  some  affrighted 
creature  balked  in  flight  by  some  dreadful,  some 


30  THE    SHADOW 

unprecedented  sight  which  held  her  spellbound.  That 
she  was  beautiful,  in  that  touching,  feminine  way 
which  goes  to  the  heart,  did  not  lessen  the  effect  of  her 
appearance,  nor  were  we  unmoved  by  the  fact  that 
the  child  for  whom  the  house  had  just  been  ransacked 
lay  curled  up  and  asleep  at  her  feet. 

"Who  is  it?"  I  asked.     "Miss  Meredith?" 

The  doctor  pressed  my  hand.  "We  must  be  care 
ful,"  he  whispered.  "She  seems  on  the  verge  of 
delirium." 

"  The  child  shows  no  fear,"  I  murmured. 

Meanwhile  the  doctor  was  approaching  the  new 
object  of  his  care. 

"Why  choose  so  cold  a  place?"  he  asked,  smiling 
on  the  young  girl  who  still  clung,  as  if  fastened,  to  the 
wall  against  which  she  had  drawn  herself.  "Claire 
will  catch  cold;  had  you  not  better  come  down 
stairs?" 

With  a  start  she  looked  down  at  the  little  one  rest 
ing  at  her  feet,  and  her  eyes  showed  a  sudden  intel 
ligence. 

"  How  did  she  come  here? "  she  asked.  "  I  did  not 
call  her." 

"And  how  came  you  to  be  here?"  he  smiled.  "Your 
white  dress  looks  out  of  place  in  this  garret." 

She  lifted  herself  straight  up,  with  her  back  to  the 
wall.  Claire,  who  was  thus  dislodged  from  the  place 
at  her  feet  woke,  and  began  to  cry. 

"I  heard  that  Mr.  Gillespie  was  dead,"  came  from 
lips  so  stiff  with  fright  or  some  other  deep  emotion 
that  I  wondered  they  could  form  the  words.  "I 
loved  Mr.  Gillespie,  and  I  brought  my  grief  here." 


CROUCHED  AGAINST  THE   FARTHER   WALL.  WITH   WIDE-EXTENDED 
EYES  FIXED  FULL  UPON   US" 


WHAT  A    DOOR  HID  31 

She  was  still  standing  pressed  against  the  wall,  her 
hands  behind  her;  and  disguise  the  fact  as  I  would, 
I  could  see  that  her  teeth  were  chattering  with  some 
thing  more  than  cold,  or  even  such  fear  as  might  fol 
low  the  sudden  death  of  a  near  friend  and  benefactor. 

"  Will  you  not  come  below? "  urged  the  doctor,  tak 
ing  up  Claire  to  his  fatherly  breast. 

"Never!"  her  lips  seemed  to  cry;  but  I  heard  no 
sound,  and  when  the  doctor,  giving  me  the  child, 
threw  his  arm  about  her  and  drew  her  away,  she 
yielded  pliantly  enough,  though  with  a  steady  look 
into  his  face  I  did  not  understand  then  nor  for  a  long 
time  afterwards. 

At  the  stair-head  we  met  Alfred.  Perhaps  he  had 
heard  us  go  up,  perhaps  he  had  simply  thought  of 
searching  the  attic  himself.  His  recoil  and  the  ex 
clamation  he  made  were  simultaneous. 

"You  have  found  her!"  was  his  cry,  a  cry  which 
did  not  refer  to  the  child.  Then  in  reproachful  tones: 
"Hope,  why  should  you  give  us  such  a  scare?  Had 
we  not  enough  to  face  without  having  our  hearts 
wrung  with  terror  for  you  ? ' ' 

Her  answer  was  a  murmur.  With  the  first  moment 
of  encounter  with  this  man  her  face  had  become  a 
mask. 


IV 

"HE  DRANK  IT  ALONE" 

IN  making  this  statement  it  is  not  my  wish  to  create 
any  special  prejudice  against  Alfred.  Indeed,  I 
have  no  right  to  do  so,  for  when  a  few  minutes  later 
his  brother  Leighton  came  running  up  the  stairs  at 
sound  of  his  child's  voice,  I  noticed  the  same  recoil 
on  her  part,  followed  by  the  same  impassibility.  Nor 
did  she  show  a  different  feeling  when  in  the  hall  below 
George  came  forward  with  the  inquiries  her  surprising 
absence  had  naturally  provoked.  From  one  and  all 
she  involuntarily  shrank,  but  not  without  suffering 
to  herself  and  an  obvious  attempt  to  hide  this  nat 
ural  impulse  under  a  demeanour  more  in  accordance 
with  her  near  relationship  to  these  three  men.  In 
Alfred  this  chilling  conduct  awakened  emotions  only 
too  easy  to  read;  in  Leighton,  surprise,  and  in  George, 
a  distrust  bordering  upon  a  passion  so  fierce  that  he 
turned  from  white  to  red  and  from  red  to  white  in  an 
instant.  Evanescent  expressions  all  of  them,  but  im 
portant  as  showing  the  feelings  entertained  towards 
her  by  these  men  among  whom  she  had  been  living 
for  more  of  less  time  as  a  sister. 

But  of  my  personal  sensations  you  have  already 
heard  too  much,  especially  at  this  period  of  my  story. 
Happily,  I  was  able  to  hide  them  from  other  eyes,  and 

32 


"HE  DRANK  IT  ALONE  "  33 

simply  showed  a  natural  curiosity  when  Dr.  Bennett, 
with  a  sly  look  in  her  direction,  whispered  in  my  ear: 

"How  came  she  to  know  of  her  uncle's  death  so 
soon  after  its  occurrence?  You  say  you  heard  her 
rush  upstairs  while  you  were  in  Alfred's  room.  That 
was  very  soon  after  you  laid  the  old  gentleman  out  of 
your  arms.  Is  it  possible  that  you  had  already  met 
Miss  Meredith?  Did  she  share  that  first  alarm  with 
you?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge,"  I  returned.  "My  first 
view  of  her  was  in  the  attic  with  you.  Yet  she  may 
have  been  somewhere  in  this  great  hall,  or  in  some  of 
the  many  rooms  I  see  about  us." 

Meanwhile  I  was  taking  in  her  beauty,  or  what  I 
must  call  beauty  from  the  lack  of  any  other  adequate 
word.  I  believe  she  was  not  what  people  call  beauti 
ful.  She  did  not  need  to  be;  her  charm  was  incon 
testable  without  it;  too  incontestable,  I  fear,  for  the 
peace  of  mind  of  more  men  than  Alfred  and  George 
Gillespie. 

She  was  standing  by  the  newel-post,  in  a  position 
startlingly  like  that  she  had  maintained  above;  and 
while  I  shrank  from  the  doubts  thus  called  up,  I 
could  not  but  perceive  in  the  straightforward  look  of 
her  eyes,  and  the  fierce  clutch  of  her  hands  behind 
her,  that  some  determination  was  absorbing  all  her 
energies;  a  determination  little  in  accord,  I  fear, 
with  the  attitude  of  simple  grief  she  made  such  an 
effort  to  maintain.  Leighton  appeared  to  see  this 
also,  for  he  set  down  the  child  he  had  been  straining 
to  his  breast,  and  approaching  his  cousin,  plied  her 
with  a  few  hurried  questions. 


34  THE   SHADOW 

But  the  coroner,  who  had  shown  some  embarrass 
ment  at  the  appearance  on  the  scene  of  so  young  and 
charming  a  lady,  advanced  at  this  juncture  and  pre 
vented  the  answer  which  was  slowly  forming  on  her 
lips. 

"If  you  are  Miss  Meredith,  Mr.  Gillespie's  niece 
and  assistant,  you  are  justified  in  your  grief.  Mr. 
Gillespie  has  passed  away  under  very  extraordinary 
circumstances." 

Her  hands  which  had  been  behind  her,  came  sud 
denly  together  in  front,  but  she  did  not  shift  her  eyes 
from  the  point  where  she  had  fixed  them.  Perhaps 
she  dreaded  to  encounter  the  gaze  of  the  three  young 
men  grouped  behind  the  man  addressing  her. 

"Have  those  circumstances  been  related  to  you?" 
resumed  Dr.  Frisbie  with  the  encouragement  in  his 
tone  which  her  loveliness  and  sorrow  naturally  called 
forth. 

"No." 

The  answer  came  quickly,  and  with  a  sharp  accen 
tuation  which  showed  her  to  be  a  woman  of  force, 
notwithstanding  the  condition  in  which  we  had  first 
found  her. 

"Then  this  little  one  had  said  nothing,"  he  con 
tinued  with  a  glance  at  Claire  who  had  nestled  again 
at  her  cousin's  feet. 

"Claire?"  she  exclaimed  in  evident  surprise. 
"Claire?"  and  her  eyes  followed  his  till  they  fell 
inquiringly  upon  the  child  whose  presence  up  to  this 
moment  she  had  probably  not  noticed.  "No,  she 
has  said  nothing;  at  least  nothing  that  I  have  heard." 
And  her  hand  went  out  as  if  she  would  urge  the  child 


"HE  DRANK  IT  ALONE  "  35 

away.  But  she  did  not  complete  the  gesture,  and  1 
doubt  if  anyone  understood  her  movement  unless  it 
was  myself. 

The  coroner  seemed  anxious  to  spare  her  feelings. 
"  Dr.  Bennett  will  communicate  to  you  our  conclu 
sions  in  this  matter,"  said  he.  "I  simply  want  to 
ask  you  when  you  last  saw  Mr.  Gillespie." 

"Alive?"  she  asked,  her  eyes  stealing  towards  the 
door  of  the  little  den. 

"Yes,  miss;  you  surely  have  not  seen  him  dead." 

"I  was  with  him  at  supper,"  she  returned.  "We 
were  all  there" ;  and  for  the  first  time  she  let  her  gaze 
fall  on  each  one  of  her  cousins  in  succession.  "My 
uncle  seemed  as  well  then  as  at  any  time  since  his  ill 
ness.  He  ate  a  good  meal  and  drank " 

"And  drank,"  repeated  the  coroner  with  a  stern 
look  behind  him  at  the  young  men  who  had  all  moved 
at  this. 

"  His  usual  glass  of  wine  at  dessert.  He  drank  it 
alone!"  she  suddenly  emphasised,  her  tone  rising  in 
sudden  excitement.  "I  can  never  forget  that  he 
drank  it  alone." 

A  sigh  or  a  suspicion  of  a  sigh  answered  her.  It 
came  from  one  of  her  cousins,  but  I  never  knew  from 
which.  At  its  sound  she  shrank  as  if  heart-pierced, 
and  put  up  her  hands — those  tell-tale  hands — and 
covered  her  ears;  then  she  as  quickly  dropped 
them,  and  regarded  the  young  men  before  her 
slowly,  separately,  and  with  a  heartrending  signifi 
cance. 

"  I  would  so  gladly  have  joined  him  in  this  attempt 
at  old-time  sociability  had  I  but  known  it  would  have 


36  THE   SHADOW 

been  his  last,"  she  said,  and  dropped  her  head  again 
with  a  sob. 

At  this  look  and  simple  action  a  burden  rolled  from 
my  heart.  But  upon  the  coroner  and  the  physician 
lingering  near  my  side,  both  look  and  words  fell  with 
a  weight  which  made  this  investigation,  if  investiga 
tion  it  could  be  called,  halt  a  moment. 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  observed  the  former 
after  a  momentary  interval  surcharged  with  deep 
emotion.  "Was  Mr.  Gillespie  in  the  habit  of  sharing 
his  wine  with  those  who  sat  at  his  board,  that  you  feel 
the  pathos  of  that  lonely  glass  so  keenly?" 

"Yes.  I  never  knew  the  dinner  to  close  before 
without  some  sort  of  toast  from  one  of  his  sons.  It 
is  the  coincidence  that  affects  me.  But  I  should  not 
have  mentioned  it.  No  one  could  have  known  that 
this  was  destined  to  be  our  last  meal  together." 

She  was  looking  straight  before  her  now.  Though 
it  seems  more  or  less  incredible,  she  was  evidently 
unconscious  of  having  raised  the  black  banner  of 
suspicion  over  the  heads  of  her  three  cousins.  But 
the  blank  silence  which  followed  her  words  appeared 
to  give  her  some  idea  of  what  she  had  done,  for  with  a 
sudden  start  and  a  change  in  her  appearance  which 
startled  us  all,  she  threw  out  her  arms  with  the  cry: 

"You  are  keeping  something  from  me.  How  did 
my  uncle  die?  Tell  me!  tell  me  at  once!" 

Leighton  sprang  for  his  child,  caught  her  up  and 
fled  with  her  into  a  farther  room.  George  tottered, 
then  drew  himself  proudly  erect.  Alfred,  who  had 
been  gnawing  his  finger-ends  in  restrained  passion, 
alone  stepped  forward  to  her  aid,  though  in  a  depre- 


"HE  DRANK  IT  ALONE  "  37 

catory  way  which  robbed  him  of  a  large  part  of  his 
natural  grace.  But  she  appeared  insensible  to  them 
all.  Her  attention  was  fixed  upon  the  doctor,  whom 
she  followed  with  an  agonising  gaze,  which  warned 
him  to  be  brief  if  she  was  to  hear  his  words  at  all. 

"  Your  uncle  is  the  victim  of  poison,"  said  he.  "  But 
we  have  reason  to  think  he  took  it  some  time  later 
than  at  the  evening  meal.  Prussic  acid  makes  quick 
work." 

The  latter  explanation  fell  unheeded.  She  had 
fallen  at  the  word  poison. 


V 

HOPS 

THIS  was  the  proper  moment  for  me  to  leave,  or 
rather  it  would  have  been  had  it  not  been  for  the 
communication  in  my  pocket  which  remained  to  be 
delivered.  To  go  without  fulfilling  my  duty  in  this 
regard  or  at  least  without  stating  to  the  coroner  that 
I  held  in  charge  a  paper  of  so  much  importance, 
seemed  an  improper  if  not  criminal  proceeding,  while 
to  speak,  and  thus  give  up  to  public  perusal  an  en 
closure  upon  the  right  delivery  of  which  the  dying 
man  laid  such  stress,  struck  me  as  an  equal  breach  of 
trust  only  to  be  justified  by  my  total  inability  to 
carry  out  the  wish  of  the  deceased  as  expressed  to  me 
in  his  last  intelligible  appeal. 

That  this  inability  was  an  assured  fact  I  was  not 
yet  convinced.  An  idea  had  come  to  me  in  the  last 
few  minutes  which,  if  properly  acted  upon,  might  open 
a  way  for  me  out  of  this  dilemma.  But  before  mak 
ing  use  of  it  I  felt  it  necessary  to  know  more  of  this 
family  and  the  ties  which  bound  them.  To  gain  this 
knowledge  was,  therefore,  of  not  only  great  but  im 
mediate  importance ;  and  where  could  I  hope  to  gain 
it  so  soon  or  so  well  as  here. 

I  consequently  lingered,  and  the  young  medical 
friend  of  George,  having  for  some  reason  shown  the 

38 


HOPE  39 

same  disregard  as  myself  to  the  open  hint  thrown  out 
by  the  coroner,  we  drew  together  near  the  front  door, 
and  fell  immediately  into  conversation.  As  he 
seemed  on  fire  to  speak,  I  left  it  for  him  to  make  the 
opening  remark. 

"Fine  girl!"  he  exclaimed.  "Very  fond  of  her 
uncle.  Used  to  help  him  with  his  correspondence. 
I  hate  to  see  women  faint.  Though  I  have  been 
in  practice  now  two  years  I  have  never  got  used  to  it." 

Anxious  as  I  was  to  understand  the  very  relation 
ship  he  hinted  at,  it  was  so  obnoxious  to  me  to  discuss 
Miss  Meredith  with  this  man  whom  I  had  first  seen  in 
a  condition  little  calculated  to  prejudice  me  in  his 
favour,  that  somewhat  inconsistently,  I  own,  I  turned 
the  conversation  upon  Mr.  Gillespie. 

"Mr.  Gillespie  was  then  a  very  busy  man,"  I  ob 
served.  "I  judged  so  from  the  look  of  his  den  or 
study.  Overwork  often  drives  men  to  suicide." 

The  glance  this  called  out  from  the  now  thoroughly 
sobered  young  doctor  was  a  sharp  one. 

"Yes,"  he  acquiesced;  but  it  was  an  acquiescence 
which,  from  the  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered,  had  a 
most  suspicious  ring. 

My  position  had  now  become  an  embarrassing  one. 
I  looked  around  for  the  coroner,  and  saw  him  talking 
earnestly  with  the  old  and  enfeebled  butler,  who 
seemed  ready  to  sink  with  distress.  At  the  same  in 
stant,  the  rattling  of  two  keys  could  be  heard  in  their 
several  locks.  The  dining-room  was  being  closed 
against  intrusion,  and  it  was  to  the  coroner  the  keys 
were  brought. 

Miss    Meredith,  who   had    been    carried    into    an 


40  THE   SHADOW 

adjoining  room,  was  slowly  recovering.  This  was  evi 
dent  from  the  countenance  and  attitude  of  Alfred 
Gillespie,  who  stood  half  in  and  half  out  of  the  room, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  face.  This  left  the  hall 
clear,  and,  as  my  companion  chose  to  preserve  silence, 
I  presently  could  hear  the  story  the  old  butler  was 
endeavouring  to  relate. 

"  I  was  waiting  on  the  table  as  usual,  sir,  and  it  was 
my  hand  which  uncorked  the  bottle  and  set  it  down 
before  Mr.  Gillespie.  The  young  gentlemen  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that  bottle;  they  did  not  even 
touch  it,  for  none  of  them  seemed  inclined  to  drink. 
Mr.  George  said  he  had  a  headache,  and  Mr.  Leighton, 
well,  he  makes  a  point  of  not  touching  port;  while 
Mr.  Alfred  gave  no  excuse;  simply  waved  it  away 
when  I  passed  it,  so  that  the  old  gentleman  drank 
alone.  He  did  n't  seem  to  feel  quite  happy,  sir,  and 
that  was  why  Miss  Meredith  got  so  excited.  She 
never  could  bear  to  see  her  uncle  displeased  with  her 
cousins." 

"And  where  is  that  bottle  of  port  and  the  glass  out 
of  which  Mr.  Gillespie  drank  at  the  table?" 

"O,  sir,  you  must  excuse  me,  sir,  but — but — I 
drank  what  was  left  in  that  bottle.  I  often  do  when 
there  is  only  a  little  left.  Master  did  n't  mind.  He 
often  said,  if  he  was  in  the  mood  to  remember  me, 
'You  may  finish  that,  Hewson,'  and  though  he  did 
not  say  it  to-night,  I  made  so  bold  as  to  remember 
the  times  he  had.  You  see  I  have  lived  for  twenty 
years  in  the  family.  I  was  a  young  man  when  Mr. 
Gillespie  took  me  into  his  service  first,  and  we  had 
become  used  to  each  other's  ways.  As  for  the  glass, 


HOPE  41 

that  was  washed,  sir,  long  ago.     He  was  well  enough 
up  to  nine  o'clock,  you  see,  sir." 

"Or  until  after  he  had  taken  the  sherry?'' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Which  you  also  brought  him?" 

"  No,  sir;  I  took  it  out  of  the  buffet,  sir;  but  it  was 
Mr.  Leighton  who  carried  it  into  the  den.  He  rang 
for  me  from  the  dining-room,  and  when  I  came  up 
he  asked  for  his  father's  bottle  of  sherry,  and  I  gave 
it  to  him.  Then  I  went  downstairs  again." 

"And  that  bottle  has  not  been  found?" 

"  I  have  not  seen  it,  sir.  Perhaps  someone  else  has. 
It  was  not  a  full  one.  He  had  had  a  glass  or  two  out 
of  it  before." 

"You  have  not  said  where  the  glass  came  from, 
from  which  Mr.  Gillespie  drank  the  sherry?" 

"From  the  buffet  also.  We  always  keep  a  supply 
in  one  of  the  lower  cupboards,  sir." 

"Did  you  take  it  out?" 

"I  think  so,  sir." 

"  Did  you  take  the  first  one  you  came  to  and  hand 
it  directly  to  Mr.  Leighton?" 

"I  believe  so." 

"Was  the  room  light  or  dark?  Could  you  see 
plainly  where  to  lay  your  hand,  or  did  you  have  to 
feel  about  for  a  glass?" 

"  I  don't  remember  it  as  being  any  too  light.  There 
was  only  one  gas-jet  turned  on,  and  the  room  is  a  big 
one.  But  I  saw  the  glasses  plainly  enough.  I  know 
just  where  to  find  them,  you  see,  sir." 

"Very  good.  Then  you  probably  noticed  whether 
the  one  you  took  out  was  clean." 


42  THE   SHADOW 

"They  are  always  clean.  I  wear  my  spectacles 
when  I  wash  them."  The  old  butler  seemed  quite 
indignant. 

"Yes,  yes;   then  you  have  to  wear  spectacles?" 

"When  I  wipe  the  glasses?     Yes,  sir." 

The  coroner  pushed  the  matter  no  further.  I  think 
he  feared  it  would  seem  like  an  attempt  to  fix  the 
guilt  on  Leighton.  Besides,  he  had  no  time  to  do  so, 
for  at  this  moment  Miss  Meredith  appeared  on  the 
threshold  of  the  room  into  which  she  had  been  car 
ried,  and,  pausing  there,  stood  looking  up  and  down 
the  hall  with  an  ardent  and  disquieted  gaze  which 
Alfred,  who  had  started  aside  at  her  approach,  tried 
in  vain  to  draw  upon  himself. 

"Claire?  Where  is  Claire?"  she  asked.  "I  want 
to  put  her  to  bed." 

"Here  she  is,"  answered  Leighton,  coming  from 
the  drawing-room  with  the  child  fast  asleep  on  his 
shoulder.  "Take  her,  Hope,  and  be  careful  not  to 
wake  her.  Better  lay  her  down  as  she  is  than  have 
her  frightened  again." 

Hope  held  out  her  arms.  I  was  startled  at  her  as 
pect.  "  Miss  Meredith  is  not  able  as  yet  to  carry  the 
child  upstairs,"  spoke  up  the  doctor;  but  the  child 
was  already  nestled  against  her  breast. 

"I  can  carry  her,"  she  assured  him,  drawing 
her  head  back  as  the  father  stooped  to  kiss  the 
child. 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  Alfred. 
"  Quite."     Her  arms  had  closed  spasmodically  over 
the  child. 

"Let  me  go  with  you,"  he  prayed.     But  catching 


HOPE  43 

the  coroner's  eye,  he  quickly  added,  "that  is,  if  you 
feel  the  need  of  any  assistance." 

Apparently  she  did  not,  for  next  minute  I  saw  her 
faltering  figure  proceeding  up  alone,  while  the  scowl 
which  had  begun  to  form  on  George's  forehead  had 
smoothed  out,  and  only  Alfred  showed  discomfiture. 

The  next  minute  the  coroner  had  concentrated  the 
attention  of  us  all  by  saying  gravely  to  the  three 
young  men  before  him : 

"You,  as  sons  of  Mr.  Gillespie,  will  surely  see  the 
justice  of  my  making  an  immediate  attempt  to  find 
out  how  and  when  your  father  took  the  poison, 
which,  to  all  appearance,  has  ended  his  invaluable 
life."  Then,  as  no  one  replied,  he  added  quietly : 

"A  bottle  is  missing  ;  the  bottle  of  sherry  from 
which  he  drank  a  glass  since  supper.  Will  you  grant 
me  leave  to  search  the  house  till  I  find  it?  So  little 
time  has  passed,  it  must  assuredly  be  somewhere 
within  reach." 

"I  can  tell  you  where  it  is,"  rejoined  one  of  the 
brothers.  "I  wanted  a  drink.  I  had  friends  up 
stairs,  and  I  came  down  and  carried  off  the  first  bottle 
I  saw.  You  will  find  it  in  my  room  above.  We  all 
drank  our  share,  so  there  can  have  been  no  harm  in 
it." 

It  was  George  who  spoke,  and  I  now  saw  why  his 
lips  had  moved  when  this  bottle  was  first  mentioned. 

The  coroner  showed  relief,  yet  made  a  movement 
singularly  like  a  signal  towards  the  rear  hall  which  I 
had  supposed  vacant  since  the  servants  had  been  sent 
out  of  it.  That  he  was  speaking  in  the  meantime  did 
not  detract  from  the  suggestiveness  of  the  gesture. 


44  THE   SHADOW 

"You  and  your  friends  drank  of  it?"  he  repeated. 
"Very  good.  That  settles  one  doubt."  And  he 
waited,  or  appeared  to  wait,  for  some  event  connected, 
as  I  felt  sure,  with  the  step  we  all  could  now  hear 
moving  in  that  hall. 

Suddenly  these  steps  grew  louder,  and  a  young  man, 
evidently  as  much  of  a  stranger  to  the  occupants  of 
the  house  as  to  myself,  approached  from  the  servants' 
staircase  with  a  bottle  in  his  hand. 

Quietly  the  coroner  took  it,  quietly  he  held  it  up 
before  the  last  speaker,  without  attempting  to  explain 
or  to  apologise  in  any  way  for  the  presence  of  the  man 
of  whom  he  had  just  made  such  dramatic  use. 

"  Is  this  the  bottle  you  mean? " 

That  young  gentleman  nodded. 

The  coroner  held  the  bottle  up  to  the  light.  Only 
a  few  drops  remained  in  it.  These  he  both  smelled 
and  tasted. 

"You  are  right,"  said  he,  "the  contents  of  this 
bottle  seem  pure."  And  he  handed  it  back  to  the 
man,  who  immediately  carried  it  out  of  sight. 

Leighton  looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  demand  who 
this  fellow  was,  but  he  did  not.  Indeed  it  seemed 
hardly  necessary.  His  confident  manner,  his  alert 
eye  which  took  us  all  in  at  a  glance,  satisfied  us  that 
the  event  we  had  all  dreaded  had  transpired,  and  that 
a  detective  had  entered  the  house. 

Noticing,  but  not  heeding,  the  effect  which  this  un 
welcome  intruder  had  produced  upon  the  proud  trio 
he  held  under  his  eye,  Dr.  Frisbie  proceeded  with  the 
questions  naturally  called  forth  by  the  acknowl 
edgment  made  by  George. 


HOPE  45 

"You  were  on  this  floor,  then,  previous  to  your 
father's  death,  possibly  previous  to  his  taking  the 
draught  which  has  so  unfortunately  ended  his 
life?" 

"  I  was  on  this  floor  an  hour  or  so  ago;  yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  your  father  or  anyone  else  at  that 
time  ? ' ' 

"  No.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  was  a  little  ashamed 
of  my  errand.  It  was  early  in  the  evening  for  the 
social  glass,  so  I  just  took  the  bottle  off  the  buffet  and 
went  back." 

"And  the  glasses?" 

"Oh,  I  always  have  enough  of  them  in  my  room." 

The  coroner's  hand  went  in  characteristic  action  to 
his  chin.  Evidently  he  found  his  position  difficult. 

"No  poison  in  this  bottle,"  he  declared.  "None 
in  the  one  your  old  butler  drained,  and,  so  far  as  we 
are  able  to  judge,  none  in  the  phial  of  chloral  found 
standing  on  the  study  mantelpiece !  Yet  your  father 
died  from  taking  prussic  acid.  Cannot  one  of  you 
assist  me  in  saying  how  this  came  about?  It  will 
save  us  unnecessary  trouble  and  the  house  some 
scandal." 

It  was  an  appeal  which  the  sons  of  Mr.  Gillespie 
could  little  afford  to  ignore.  Yet  while  each  and  all 
of  them  paled  under  the  searching  gaze  which  accom 
panied  it,  none  of  them  spoke  till  the  silence  becoming 
unendurable,  Leighton  made  an  extraordinary  effort 
and  remarked: 

"  My  father  was  a  proud  man.  If  he  chose — I  say, 
if  he  chose  to  end  his  troubles  in  this  unfortunate  way, 
he  would  plan  to  leave  behind  him  no  sign  of  an  act 


46  THE   SHADOW 

calculated  to  bring  such  opprobrium  upon  his  house 
hold.  He  would  have  acted  under  the  hope  that  his 
death  would  be  taken  as  the  result  of  his  late  sickness. 
That  is  doubtless  why  you  fail  to  find  the  phial  from 
which  the  poison  was  poured." 

"Hum!  Yes!  I  see.  Your  father  had  troubles, 
then?" 

The  answer  was  unexpected. 

"  My  father  had  three  sons,  none  of  whom  gave  him 
unalloyed  comfort.  Is  not  this  true,  George?  Is  not 
this  true,  Alfred?" 

Startled  by  the  sudden  appeal  which,  coming  as  it 
did  from  a  man  of  great  personal  pride,  produced  an 
effect  thrilling  to  the  spectators  as  well  as  to  the  men 
addressed,  the  brothers  flushed  deeply,  but  ven 
tured  upon  no  protest. 

"You  and  father  have  always  been  on  good  enough 
terms,"  growled  George,  with  an  attempt  at  fairness 
which  gained  point  from  the  dogged  air  with  which  it 
was  given. 

This  brought  a  shadow  over  the  face  which  a  mo 
ment  before  had  shone  with  something  like  lofty 
feeling. 

"  I  cannot  forget  that  we  quarrelled  an  hour  before 
he  died,"  murmured  Leighton,  moving  off  with  an 
air  of  great  depression. 

Meantime  I  had  taken  a  resolution.  Advancing 
from  the  remote  end  of  the  hall  where  I  had  been 
standing  with  their  young  medical  friend,  I  spoke  up 
firmly,  calmly,  but  with  decision: 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  been  waiting  to  see  what  my 
duty  was.  I  have  reason  to  think,  notwithstanding 


HOPE  47 

my  position  as  a  stranger  among  you,  that  the  clue 
to  your  father's  strange  act  is  to  be  found  in  my 
hands.  Will  you  allow  me,  before  explaining  myself 
further,  to  request  your  answer  to  a  single  question  ? ' ' 

The  surprise  which  this  evoked,  was  shared  by  the 
coroner,  who  probably  thought  he  had  exhausted  my 
testimony  at  our  first  interview. 

"It  is  a  question  which  will  strike  you  as  strange 
and  out  of  place  at  a  time  so  serious.  But  I  pray  you 
to  show  your  confidence  in  me  by  giving  me  a  straight 
forward  reply.  Was  Mr.  Gillespie  a  man  of  dramatic 
instincts?  Had  he  any  special  powers  of  mimicry, 
or,  if  I  may  speak  plainly,  had  he  what  you  might  call 
marked  facial  expression?" 

In  the  astonishment  this  called  out  I  saw  no  dissent. 

"Father  was  a  man  of  talent,"  Alfred  grudgingly 
allowed.  "I  have  often  heard  Claire  laugh  at  his 
stories,  which  she  said  were  like  little  plays.  But 
this  is  a  peculiar  if  not  inappropriate  question  to  put 
to  us  at  a  time  of  such  distress,  Mr.  Outhwaite." 

"So  I  forewarned  you,"  I  rejoined,  turning  to  the 
coroner.  "Dr.  Frisbie,  I  must  throw  myself  upon 
your  clemency.  When  I  entered  this  house  in  re 
sponse  to  an  appeal  from  Mr.  Gillespie's  grandchild, 
I  found  that  gentleman  labouring  under  great  mental 
as  well  as  physical  distress.  He  was  anxious,  more 
than  anxious,  to  have  some  special  wish  carried  out; 
and  being  tongue-tied,  found  great  difficulty  in  in 
dicating  what  this  was.  But  after  many  efforts,  he 
made  me  understand  that  I  was  to  take  from  him  a 
paper  which  he  held  in  his  clenched  hand ;  and  when 
I  had  done  so,  that  I  was  to  enclose  it,  folded  as  it  was, 


48  THE   SHADOW 

in  one  of  the  envelopes  lying  on  the  table  before  us. 
Not  seeing  any  reason  then  for  non-compliance  with 
his  wishes,  I  accomplished  this  under  his  eye,  and 
then  asked  him  for  the  name  and  address  of  the  per 
son  for  whom  this  communication  was  intended; 
but  by  this  time  his  faculties  had  failed  to  such  an 
extent,  he  could  not  pronounce  the  name.  He  could 
only  ejaculate :  '  To  no  one  else — only  to — to — '  Alas ! 
he  could  not  finish  the  sentence.  But,  gentlemen, 
while  waiting  here  I  have  been  enabled  to  complete 
in  my  own  mind  this  final  attempt  at  speech  on  the 
part  of  your  father.  Anxious  to  make  no  mistake 
(for  the  impression  made  by  his  dying  adjuration  not 
to  deliver  this  letter  into  the  wrong  hands,  was  no 
ordinary  one),  I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  be  moved 
by  any  hurried  or  inconsiderate  impulse,  to  part  with 
this  communication  even  to  those  whose  claims  upon 
it  might  be  considered  paramount  to  those  of  a  mere 
stranger  like  myself.  But  since  seeing  Miss  Meredith, 
above  all  since  hearing  you  address  her  by  her  name 
of  Hope,  I  cannot  help  feeling  justified  in  believing 
that  this  final  communication  from  Mr.  Gillespie's 
hand  was  meant  for  her.  For  when  in  my  per 
plexity  I  pressed  him  to  give  me  some  sign  by  which 
I  could  make  out  whether  it  was  intended  for  his 
doctor,  his  lawyer,  or  his  household,  he  roused  and 
his  face  showed  an  elevated  look  which  I  now  feel 
compelled  to  regard  as  a  dramatic  attempt  to  express 
in  action  the  name  he  could  no  longer  utter.  Gentle 
men,  I  have  described  his  action.  What  name  among 
those  you  are  accustomed  to  speak  best  fits  it?" 
"Hope,"  was  the  simultaneous  reply. 


HOPE  49 

"So  I  have  presumed  to  think."  And  turning  to 
Dr.  Frisbie,  I  added:  "I  have  been  told  that  this 
young  lady  was  in  her  uncle's  confidence.  Will  you 
allow  me  to  deliver  this  envelope  to  Miss  Meredith,  in 
accordance  with  the  injunction  I  firmly  believe  myself 
to  have  received  from  Mr.  Gillespie?" 

There  was  a  silence  during  which  no  movement  was 
made.  Then  the  coroner  replied: 

"Yes,  if  it  is  done  in  my  presence." 

I  turned  again  to  the  young  gentlemen. 

"Commiserate  my  position  and  send  for  Miss  Mere 
dith,"  I  prayed.  "I  feel  bound  to  place  this  in  her 
hands  myself.  If  I  make  a  mistake  in  thus  interpret 
ing  the  look  given  me  by  your  father,  it  will  at  least  be 
made  under  your  eye  and  from  unquestionable  mo 
tives.  With  my  limited  knowledge  of  the  family,  I 
know  of  no  one  who  has  a  better  claim  to  this  com 
munication  than  she.  Do  you?" 

None  of  them  attempted  a  reply. 

Dr.  Bennett  had  already  gone  up  for  Miss  Meredith. 


VI 

A    HAPPY    INSPIRATION 

'I  j|  THILE  waiting  for  thisyoung  lady,  I  surveyedthe 
V  V  three  Gillespies  with  a  more  critical  attention 
than  I  had  hitherto  had  the  opportunity  of  giving 
them.  As  a  result,  George  struck  me  as  being  the  most 
candid,  Leighton  the  most  intellectual,  and  Alfred  the 
most  turbulent  and  ungovernable  in  his  loves  and 
animosities.  All  were  under  the  same  mental  tension 
and  in  all  I  beheld  evidence  of  deep  humiliation  and 
distrust,  but  this  similarity  of  feeling  did  not  draw 
them  together  even  outwardly,  but  rather  seemed  to 
provoke  a  self-concentration  which  kept  them  widely 
apart.  As  I  looked  longer,  Leighton  impressed  him 
self  upon  me  as  an  interesting  study — possibly  be 
cause  he  was  difficult  to  understand ;  Alfred  as  a  good 
lover  but  dangerous  hater;  and  George  as  the  best  of 
good  fellows  when  his  rights  were  not  assailed  or  his 
kindly  disposition  imposed  upon.  None  of  them 
seemed  to  take  any  interest  in  me.  To  them  I  was 
simply  a  connecting  link  between  their  dead  father 
and  the  letter  I  held  in  charge  for  Miss  Meredith. 

Meanwhile  the  coroner  showed  but  one  anxiety, 
and  that  was  for  the  lady's  speedy  appearance  and 
the  consequent  reading  of  the  letter  upon  which  all 
minds  were  fixed. 

50 


A   HAPPY  INSPIRATION  5 1 

She  came  sooner  than  we  expected.  As  her  soft 
footfall  descended  the  stairs  a  visible  change  took 
place  in  us  all.  Drooping  figures  started  erect  and 
furrowed  brows  grew  smooth.  Some  of  us  even  as 
sumed  that  appearance  of  reserve  which  men  uncon 
sciously  take  on  when  their  deeper  feelings  are  stirred. 
Only  Leighton  acted  in  a  perfectly  natural  manner; 
consequently  it  was  in  his  direction  her  frightened 
glances  flew  when  she  realised  that  she  had  been 
summoned  for  some  definite  purpose. 

"  I  don't  know  what  more  you  can  want  of  me  to 
night,"  she  protested  in  a  tone  little  short  of  a  fright 
ened  gasp.  "  I  am  hardly  fit  to  talk.  But  the  doctor 
said  I  must  come  down.  Why  could  n't  you  have 
left  me  with  Claire?" 

"  Because,  dear  Hope,  this  gentleman  you  see  here, 
and  who,  as  you  know,  was  with  my  father  when  he 
died,  says  he  has  a  letter,  or  some  communication 
from  your  uncle,  which  he  is  sure  was  meant  for  your 
eye  only.  Do  you  think  my  father  would  be  likely 
to  leave  you  such  a  message?  Have  you  any  reason 
for  expecting  his  last  thoughts  would  be  for  you, 
rather  than  for  his  sons  ?  Answer ;  we  are  quite  pre 
pared  to  hear  you  say  Yes." 

She  had  been  trying  to  steady  herself  without  lay 
ing  hold  of  his  arm.  But  she  found  this  impossible. 
With  an  expression  of  deepest  anguish  she  caught  at 
his  wrist,  and  then  facing  us,  murmured  in  failing 
tones : 

"  He  might.  I  have  helped  him  lately  a  great  deal 
with  his  letter- writing.  Must  I  read  it  here?" 

In  this  last  question  and  her  manner  of  uttering  it 


52  THE   SHADOW 

there  was  an  appeal  which  almost  took  the  form  of 
prayer.  But  it  failed  to  produce  any  effect  upon  the 
coroner,  favourably  as  he  seemed  disposed  to  regard 
her.  With  some  bluntness,  I  had  almost  said  harsh 
ness,  he  answered  her  with  a  peremptory: 

"Yes,  miss,  here." 

She  was  not  prepared  for  this  refusal,  and  her  eyes, 
full  of  entreaty,  flashed  from  one  face  to  another  till 
they  settled  again  on  the  coroner. 

"I  cannot,"  she  protested.  "Spare  me!  I  do  not 
seem  to  have  full  use  of  my  faculties.  My  head 
swims — I  cannot  see — let  me  take  it  to  the  light  over 
there — I  am  a  nervous  girl." 

She  had  gradually  drawn  herself  away  from  Leigh- 
ton.  The  envelope  which  had  been  given  her  was 
trembling  in  her  hand,  and  her  eyes,  wandering  from 
George  to  Alfred,  seemed  to  pray  for  some  encourage 
ment  they  were  powerless  to  give.  "I  ought  to  be 
allowed  the  right  to  read  the  last  words  of  one  so 
dearly  loved  without  feeling  myself  under  the  eyes  of 
— of  strangers,"  she  finally  declared  with  a  certain 
pitiful  access  of  hauteur  certainly  not  natural  to  one 
of  her  manifestly  generous  temperament. 

Was  the  shaft  meant  for  me?  I  did  not  think  so, 
but,  in  recognition  of  the  hint  conveyed,  I  stepped 
back  and  had  almost  reached  the  door  when  I  heard 
the  coroner  say : 

"If  the  words  you  find  there  have  reference  solely 
to  your  own  interests,  Miss  Meredith,  you  will  be  al 
lowed  to  read  them  in  privacy.  But  if  they  refer  in 
any  way  to  the  interests  of  the  man  who  wrote  it, 
you  will  yourself  desire  to  read  his  words  aloud,  as 


A   HAPPY  INSPIRATION  53 

the  manner  and  meaning  of  his  death  is  a  mystery 
which  you  as  well  as  all  the  other  members  of  his 
household  must  desire  to  see  immediately  cleared 
up." 

"Open  it!"  she  cried,  thrusting  it  into  the  hands  of 
the  physician,  who  by  this  time  had  rejoined  the  group. 
"And  may  God " 

She  did  not  finish.  The  sacred  name  seemed  to 
act  as  a  restraint  upon  the  passion  in  whose  cause  it 
had  been  invoked.  With  her  back  to  them  all  she 
waited  for  the  doctor  to  read  the  lines  to  which  she 
seemed  to  attach  so  apprehensive  an  interest. 

It  was  impossible  for  me  to  leave  at  a  moment  so 
critical.  Watching  the  doctor,  I  saw  him  draw  out 
the  paper  I  had  so  carefully  enclosed  in  an  envelope, 
and  after  looking  at  it,  turn  it  over  and  over  in  such 
astonishment  and  perplexity  that  we  all  caught  the 
alarm  and  crowded  about  him  for  explanation.  Alas, 
it  was  a  simple  one!  The  paper  concerning  which  I 
had  endured  so  many  qualms  of  conscience,  and  from 
the  reading  of  which  the  young  girl  had  shrunk  with 
every  appearance  of  intolerable  dread,  proved  upon 
opening  it  to  be  an  absolutely  blank  one. 

There  was  not  upon  its  smooth  surface  so  much  as 
the  faintest  trace  of  words. 


VII 

THE    ELDERLY    GENTLEMAN    BY    THE    NEWEL-POST 

"HPHIS   is   surprising.     Do  you   understand   this, 

1  Miss  Meredith?  There  is  nothing  written 
here.  The  sheet  is  perfectly  blank." 

She  turned,  stared,  and  laughed  convulsively. 

"Blank,  do  you  say?  What  a  fuss  about  nothing! 
No  words,  no  words  at  all?  Let  me  see.  I  certainly 
expected  you  to  find  some  final  message  in  it." 

What  a  change  of  manner!  The  moment  before 
she  had  confronted  us,  a  silent  agonised  woman ;  now 
her  words  rattled  forth  with  such  feverish  volubility 
we  scarcely  knew  her.  The  coroner,  not  noticing,  or 
purposely  blind  to  the  relief  she  showed,  handed  her 
the  slip  without  a  word.  The  brothers  had  all  drawn 
off,  and  for  the  first  time  began  to  whisper  among 
themselves.  As  for  myself,  I  did  not  know  what  to 
do  or  think.  My  position,  if  anything,  had  changed 
for  the  worse.  I  seemed  to  have  played  some  trick. 
I  wanted  to  beg  her  pardon  and  theirs,  and  seeing  her 
finally  let  the  paper  fall  to  the  floor  with  an  incredu 
lous  shake  of  the  head,  I  began  to  stammer  out  some 
words  of  explanation,  which  sounded  weak  enough 
under  the  tension  of  suppressed  excitement  called 
forth  in  every  breast  by  this  unexpected  incident. 

"I  feel — I  am  persuaded — you  will  not  give  me 
54 


THE   GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL-POST       55 

credit  either  for  good  sense  or  for  the  sincerity  of  my 
desire  to  be  of  service  to  you,"  I  made  out  to  say.  "I 
certainly  thought  from  Mr.  Gillespie's  actions,  above 
all  from  the  expressions  which  accompanied  them, 
that  he  had  entrusted  me  with  a  communication  of 
no  little  importance,  and  that  this  communication 
was  meant  for  Miss  Meredith." 

To  my  chagrin,  my  plea  went  unheeded  :  she 
was  too  absorbed  in  hiding  her  own  satisfaction  at  the 
turn  affairs  had  taken,  and  her  cousins  in  deciding 
to  what  extent  their  position  had  been  improved  by 
the  discovery  of  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  where  all  had 
expected  to  find  words,  and  very  important  words, 
too.  Consequently  it  fell  to  Dr.  Bennett  to  answer  me. 

"No  one  can  doubt  your  intentions,  Mr.  Outh- 
waite.  Miss  Meredith  will  be  the  first  to  acknowl 
edge  her  indebtedness  to  you  when  she  comes  to 
herself.  You  have  fulfilled  your  commission  accord 
ing  to  the  dictates  of  your  own  conscience.  That 
you  have  failed  to  effect  all  you  hoped  for  is  not  your 
fault.  As  a  lawyer  you  will  rate  the  matter  at  its 
worth,  and  as  a  man  of  heart  excuse  the  exaggerated 
effect  it  has  to  all  appearance  produced  upon  those 
about  you." 

It  was  a  palpable  dismissal,  and  I  took  it  for  such, 
or  would  have  if  Miss  Meredith,  whose  attention  the 
word  lawyer  had  seemingly  caught,  had  not  honoured 
me  with  a  look  which  held  me  rooted  to  the  spot. 

"  Wait! "  she  cried,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  that  young 
man.  Do  not  let  him  go  yet."  And  advancing,  she 
stood  before  me  in  an  attitude  at  once  womanly  and 
confiding. 


56  THE   SHADOW 

"Come  back,  Hope!"  I  heard  uttered  in  the  per 
emptory  tones  of  him  they  called  Leighton. 

But  though  the  spasm  which  passed  over  her  face 
denoted  what  it  cost  her  to  disobey  the  voice  of  so 
near  a  relative,  she  stood  her  ground. 

"I  need  a  friend,"  she  said  to  me.  "Someone  who 
will  stand  by  me  and  support  me  in  a  task  I  may  find 
myself  too  weak  to  accomplish  unaided.  I  cannot 
have  recourse  to  my  cousins.  They  are  too  closely 
connected  with  the  sorrows  brought  upon  us  all  by 
this  event.  Besides,  I  find  it  easier  to  depend  on  a 
stranger, — one  who  does  not  care  for  me,  as  Dr. 
Bennett  does;  a  lawyer,  too;  I  may  need  a  lawyer — 
sir,  will  you  aid  me  with  your  counsels?  I  should 
find  it  hard  to  come  upon  another  man  of  such  evi 
dent  sincerity  as  yourself." 

"Hope!  Hope!" 

Entreaty  had  now  become  command;  Leighton 
even  took  a  step  towards  her.  She  faltered,  but 
managed  to  murmur : 

"You  will  not  go  till  I  have  seen  you  again.  You 
will  not!"  • 

"  I  will  not,"  I  rejoined,  putting  down  the  hat  I  had 
caught  up. 

The  next  minute  she,  as  well  as  myself,  perceived 
why  she  had  been  thus  peremptorily  called  back. 

The  group  around  the  newel-post  had  changed.  A 
large,  elderly  man,  with  a  world  of  experience  in  his 
time-worn  but  kindly  visage,  was  standing  in  the 
place  occupied  by  the  coroner  a  moment  before.  He 
was  bowing  in  the  direction  of  Miss  Meredith,  and  he 
held  some  half-dozen  letters  in  his  hand. 


THE   GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL-POST      57 

As  her  eyes  fell  on  these  letters  he  regarded  her  with 
an  encouraging  smile,  and  said: 

"I  am  Detective  Gryce,  miss.  I  ask  pardon  for 
disturbing  you,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  lay  too  much 
stress  upon  my  presence  here  or  upon  the  few  ques 
tions  I  have  to  put  on  behalf  of  the  coroner  who  has 
just  been  called  to  the  telephone.  A  few  explana 
tions  are  all  I  want,  and  some  of  these  you  are  in  a 
position  to  give  me.  You  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
using  the  typewriter  for  your  uncle,  I  am  told." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Did  you  use  it  for  the  writing  of  these  five  letters 
found  upon  his  desk?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"To-night?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"At  what  hour?" 

"  Between  dinner  time  and  half-past  eight." 

This  was  the  first  time  she  had  acknowledged  hav 
ing  seen  her  uncle  after  dinner. 

"  So  you  were  with  him  until  half-past  eight? " 

"Yes,  or  thereabouts." 

"And  left  him  in  the  enjoyment  of  hio  usual 
health?" 

"To  all  appearance,  yes." 

"Before  or  after  your  cousin  Leighton  came  into 
the  study?" 

"Before." 

"Why  did  you  leave?  Was  Mr.  Gillespie  through 
with  his  work  for  the  night?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  don't  think  so,  but  I  was  tired, 
and  he  begged  me  to  go  up-stairs." 


58  THE    SHADOW 

"In  his  usual  manner?" 

"Yes." 

"  Not  like  a  man  anxious  to  have  you  go? '.' 

"No." 

"And  when  did  the  child  come  down?" 

"Later." 

"Not  immediately." 

"  No;  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so  later." 

' '  Humph !  The  child  was  with  him  then  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  before  his  death  ? ' ' 

"I  suppose  so;   I  do  not  know." 

The  detective  waited  a  moment,  then  his  hand 
closed  over  the  letters. 

"Miss,  it  is  very  important  to  know  whether  Mr. 
Gillespie  anticipated  death.  This  correspondence — 
you  know  it — a  letter  to  Simpson  &  Beals,  Attorneys, 
Dubuque,  Iowa  ;  another  to  Howard  MacCartney, 
St.  Augustine,  Florida  ;  this  to  the  president  of  the 
Santa  F6  Railroad  ;  and  this  to  Clarke,  Beales  &  Co., 
Nassau  Street,  City.  All  business  letters,  I  pre 
sume?" 

"Entirely  so,  sir." 

"And  none  of  them,  I  judge,  such  as  a  man  would 
write  who  expected  to  close  all  accounts  with  the 
world  in  less  than  an  hour  ? ' ' 

"None." 

How  laconic  she  was  for  a  girl  scarcely  out  of  her 
teens ! 

"  From  this  correspondence,  then,  as  you  know  it, 
he  showed  no  intention  of  suicide?" 

"  On  the  contrary.  In  one  of  those  letters,  the  one 
to  Clarke,  Beales  &  Co.,  I  think,  he  made  an  appoint- 


THE   GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL-POST      59 

ment  for  to-morrow.  My  uncle  was  very  exact  in 
business  matters.  He  would  never  have  made  this 
appointment  if  he  had  not  hoped  to  keep  it." 

"Are  you  two  in  league  ? "  the  angry  voice  of  George 
broke  in.  "Are  you  trying  to  make  out  that  father 
died  from  violence?" 

"In  league?" 

Did  she  say  it  or  only  look  it?  I  felt  my  heart 
swell  at  her  piteous,  her  agonised  expression.  Mr. 
Gryce,  as  he  called  himself,  may  have  seen  it,  but  he 
appeared  to  be  looking  at  the  slip  of  paper  he  now 
drew  from  his  pocket,  and  which  we  all  recognised  as 
that  which  she  had  shortly  before  let  drop. 

"You  see  this,"  he  said,  "it  looks  like  a  piece  of 
perfectly  blank  paper." 

"And  it  is,"  she  declared.  "Why  he  should  send 
it  to  me  I  do  not  know.  It  was  given  me  in  an  en 
velope  by  the  gentleman  at  the  door,  who  says  he  got 
it  from  my  uncle  before  he  died.  Everyone  here 
knows  that." 

"Very  good.  Now  let  me  ask  from  what  sheet 
your  uncle  tore  this  scrap  of  paper?  You  recognise 
it  as  paper  you  have  seen  before?" 

"  O,  yes,  it  is  part  of  what  is  used  in  the  typewriter. 
At  least  I  suppose  it  to  be.  It  looks  like  it." 

"Sweet water,  bring  me  the  typewriter!" 

Sweetwater  was  the  young  man  who  had  before 
shown  himself  in  attendance  on  the  coroner. 

"O,  what  does  this  mean?"  asked  Hope,  shrinking 
back. 

An  oath  answered  her.  George  had  reached  the 
end  of  his  patience. 


6o 


THE   SHADOW 


The  placidity  of  the  old  man  remained  undisturbed. 

Meanwhile  the  young  detective  called  Sweetwater 
had  returned  with  the  typewriter  in  his  arms.  Set 
ting  it  down  on  the  library  table,  towards  which  they 
all  immediately  moved,  he  composedly  strolled  my 
way.  We  were  now  grouped  as  follows:  the  family 
and  some  others  in  the  library,  Sweetwater  and  my 
self  at  the  front  door. 


DINING 


YARD 


DEN 
OOOH 


LIBRARY 


DRAW  IN6 
ROOM 


.      RECEPTION 
flOOM 


I      I 


FRONT  DOOR 


THE   GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL-POST     6 1 

Naturally,  from  the  point  I  have  just  indicated, 
I  could  not  look  into  the  library ;  but  my  hear 
ing  being  good  and  that  of  the  young  detective 
still  better,  we  both  managed  to  get  the  drift  of 
what  was  being  said,  though  we  could  not  note  the 
speakers. 

I  had  seen  a  slip  of  paper  protruding  from  the  ma 
chine  when  it  was  carried  past  me,  and  it  was  to  this 
piece  of  paper  Mr.  Gryce  first  called  Miss  Meredith's 
attention. 

"There  's  an  unfinished  letter  here,  as  you  see.  Did 
you  have  a  hand  in  writing  it?" 

She  did  not  answer  very  promptly,  but  when  she 
did,  it  was  with  a  "No"  which  was  startlingly 
abrupt. 

"Ah!  then  there  's  someone  else  in  the  house  who 
uses  the  typewriter." 

"  Mr.  Gillespie.  He  often  used  it  when  he  was  in  a 
hurry  and  I  not  by." 

" Mr.  Gillespie?  Do  you  think  it  was  he  who  wrote 
these  lines?" 

"  I  do.     There  was  no  one  else  to  do  it." 

Was  my  imagination  too  active,  or  had  her  voice  a 
choked  sound  which  spoke  of  some  latent  emotion 
she  strove  to  conceal? 

"Then,"  suavely  responded  the  detective,  "we 
need  no  other  proof  of  Mr.  Gillespie's  condition  up  to 
the  time  he  worked  off  this  last  line.  I  doubt  if  you 
ever  made  a  better  copy  yourself,  Miss  Meredith. 
But  why  is  it  torn  across  in  this  manner?  Half  of 
the  sheet  is  missing,  and  some  portion  at  least  of  the 
letter  is  gone." 


62  THE   SHADOW 

A  sudden  gasp  which  could  have  come  from  no 
other  lips  than  hers  was  followed  by  certain  short 
exclamations  from  the  others  indicative  of  interest 
if  not  surprise. 

"Shall  I  take  it  out?  Or  will  one  of  you  read  it  as 
it  lies  here?  I  prefer  one  of  you  to  read  it." 

We  heard  a  few  stammering  sentences  uttered  by 
George  or  Alfred,  then  Leighton's  voice  broke  in  with 
the  calm  remark: 

"It  is  about  some  shares  lately  purchased  in  Den 
ver.  If  you  think  it  necessary  to  hear  what  my 
father  had  to  say  concerning  them,  this  is  a  facsimile 
of  what  he  wrote  a  half-hour  or  so  before  he  died : 


Hew.  torfc,.  !«.  T-J,  QCt., 

Esq., 
l#J6tate  St., 

Boston, Mass, 
r'  Sirr>— 

,In  r€£ard   to  .the  financing  of  the  ^ §10, 000, 000 » 
<mentionad  in  our  conversation'oa  the  ,12th  (inst.,  it 
|j,3  of  the  utmost  importance  that  I  am  placed  as 
soon  as  possible  in  >,.full  possession* 
regarding  the  pror 


The  rest  is  torn  off,  as  you  say.     Do  you  consider  this 
letter  important?" 

"  Not  at  all,  except  as  showing  the  sound  condition 
of  your  father's  mind  immediately  prior  to  his  col 
lapse  at  ten  o'clock.  It  is  not  the  letter  itself  which 
should  engage  your  attention,  but  the  fact  that  this 
portion  of  it  which  has  been  wrenched  off  cannot 
be  found.  I  know,"  he  went  on,  before  a  rejoinder 


THE   GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL-POST     63 

could  be  made  by  anyone  in  the  startled  group  about 
him,  "that  a  strip  seemingly  of  this  same  paper  was 
received  by  Miss  Meredith  in  an  envelope  a  few 
minutes  ago.  Indeed,  I  have  it  here.  But  though 
it  was  evidently  stripped  from  this  same  sheet — 
from  the  bottom  part  of  it,  as  you  can  see  from 
its  one  straight  edge — it  does  not  fit  the  portion  left 
in  the  machine.  Some  two  inches  or  so  of  the  sheet 
is  lacking.  Now  where  are  these  two  inches?  Not 
in  the  room  from  which  we  brought  the  type 
writer,  nor  yet  on  Mr.  Gillespie's  person,  for  we 
have  looked." 

Silence. 

"  No  one  seems  to  answer,"  breathed  a  voice  in  my 
ear. 

Had  this  shrewd  and  seemingly  able  detective  ex 
pected  a  reply?  I  had  not.  Silence  had  too  often 
followed  inquiry  in  this  house. 

"  It  is  a  loss  open  to  explanation,"  mildly  resumed 
the  aged  detective.  "It  is  also  one  which  the  police 
deems  important.  We  shall  have  to  search  for  that 
connecting  slip  of  paper  unless,  as  I  sincerely  hope, 
someone  here  present  can  produce  it." 

"Search!"  a  commanding  voice  broke  in  —  that 
of  Leighton.  "We  know  nothing  about  it." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  rejoined  the  old  man,  with  a  mild 
ness  unusual  in  one  of  his  class.  "Such  a  measure 
should  not  be  necessary.  Someone  here  ought  to  be 
able  to  direct  us  where  to  find  this  missing  portion  of 
a  letter  interrupted  by  so  stern  a  fact  as  the  writer's 
death." 

Still  no  answer. 


64  THE   SHADOW 

"  Had  there  been  a  fire  in  the  room — but  there  was 
no  fire.  Or  had  Mr.  Gillespie  left  the  room " 

' '  Speak  out ! ' '  the  stern  tones  again  en j oined .  ' '  You 
think  some  of  us  took  it? " 

"I  do  not  say  so,"  was  the  conciliatory  reply. 
"But  this  scrap  must  be  found.  Its  remarkable 
disappearance  shows  that  it  has  more  or  less  bearing 
on  the  mystery  of  your  father's  death." 

"  Then  we  must  entreat  you  to  use  your  power  and 
find  it  if  you  can."  It  was  still  Leighton  who  was 
speaking.  "George,  Alfred,  let  us  accept  the  situa 
tion  with  good  grace;  we  will  gain  nothing  by  an 
tagonising  the  police." 

Two  muffled  oaths  answered  him;  their  natures 
were  more  passionate  than  his,  or  possibly  less  under 
control.  But  they  offered  no  objections,  and  the  next 
minute  the  old  detective  appeared  in  the  hall. 

One  look  passed  between  him  and  the  young  man 
loitering  at  my  side.  Then  the  latter  turned  to  me: 

"This  is  to  be  my  task,"  he  whispered.  "I  don't 
know  the  house  at  all.  I  hear  that  you  have  been 
up." 

From  whom  could  he  have  heard  this  ?  From  Dr. 
Bennett?  It  was  possible.  Such  fellows  worm 
themselves  into  the  confidence  of  warier  persons  than 
this  amiable  old  physician. 

"I  have  passed  through  the  halls,"  I  admitted, 
none  too  encouragingly.  "But  I  don't  see  how  that 
can  help  you." 

"It's  a  four-story  building,  I  suppose.  All  the 
houses  along  here  are." 

"Yes,  it 's  a  four-story  house." 


THE   GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL-POST     65 

He  rubbed  one  hand  awkwardly  against  the  other; 
indeed,  his  whole  manner  was  awkward;  then  he 
walked  slowly  down  the  hall.  When  he  reached  the 
library  door  he  stopped  and  looked  in  with  a  shy  and 
deprecating  air.  Suddenly  he  began  to  back  away. 
Someone  was  coming  out.  It  was  Miss  Meredith. 
When  she  was  in  full  sight  and  he  brought  to  a  stand 
still  by  the  wall  against  which  he  had  retreated,  he 
spoke,  but  not  to  her,  though  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  her  in  a  sort  of  blank  stare  she  may  have  attri 
buted  to  the  power  of  her  beauty,  but  which  I  felt  was 
of  a  character  to  make  her  careful. 

"  Four  stories ! "  he  muttered.  "Parlour  floor,  first 
bedroom  floor,  second  bedroom  floor,  and  the  attic! 
Where  shall  I  begin?  Ha!  I  think  I  know,"  he 
smiled,  and  passed  quickly  down  the  hall. 

She  had  given  an  involuntary  pressure  to  her  hands 
when  he  mentioned  the  word  attic. 

I  thought  of  the  position  in  which  I  had  found  her 
there ;  of  the  doubts  expressed  by  the  doctor  as  to 
how  she  could  have  received  an  intimation  of  her 
uncle's  death  before  an  alarm  had  been  raised  or  her 
cousins  fully  aroused,  and  felt  forced  to  acknowledge 
that  the  police  were  justified  in  their  action,  great  as 
was  the  spell  cast  over  me  by  her  loveliness. 

That,  justified  or  not,  they  meant  to  do  their  work, 
I  soon  saw.  With  a  steady  eye  the  coroner  held  us 
all  to  our  places,  while  the  young  detective  disap 
peared  above,  followed  only  by  Leighton,  who  had 
asked  the  privilege  of  accompanying  him  for  fear  of 
some  alarm  being  given  to  his  little  child  who  was 
upstairs  alone.  From  the  way  Miss  Meredith's  eyes 


66  THE   SHADOW 

followed  them,  I  knew  there  was  something  to  be 
feared  from  this  quest  which  she  alone  had  the  power 
of  measuring. 

What  was  I  to  think  of  this  young  girl  who  chose 
to  be  reticent  on  a  subject  involving  questions  of  life 
and  death !  I  would  not  probe  my  doubts  too  closely. 
I  steeled  myself  against  her  look,  resolving  to  be  the 
lawyer — her  lawyer — if  required,  but  nothing  more, 
at  least  till  these  shadows  were  cleared  up. 

Her  two  cousins  remained  in  the  library,  to  which 
Mr.  Gryce  had  returned  after  making  the  signal  to 
his  man  Sweetwater.  We  were  all  under  great  re 
straint  with  the  exception  of  the  doctor,  who  was 
chatting  confidentially  with  the  coroner.  What  he 
said  I  could  in  a  measure  gather  from  the  expression 
of  Miss  Meredith's  face,  who  was  nearer  him  than  I. 
That  it  served  to  intensify  rather  than  relieve  the 
situation  was  apparent  from  the  gravity  with  which 
the  coroner  listened.  Later,  some  stray  words 
reached  me. 

"  Had  the  greatest  dread  of  poison — '  This  I  dis 
tinctly  heard —  "Never  took  any  medicine  without 
asking — "  I  could  not  catch  the  rest.  "Tell  him 
symptoms — all  the  poisons — like  a  child — he  never 
poisoned  himself."  This  last  rung  in  my  ears  with 
persistent  iteration.  It  rang  so  loud  I  thought  every 
one  on  that  floor  must  have  heard  it.  But  I  saw  no 
change  in  Alfred's  restless  figure  hovering  on  the 
threshold  of  the  library  door  a  few  feet  behind  Miss 
Meredith;  while  George,  conversing  feverishly  with 
Mr.  Gryce,  raised  his  voice  rather  than  dropped  it  as 
these  fatal  words  fell  from  the  lips  of  one  who  certainly 


THE    GENTLEMAN  BY  THE  NEWEL-POST     67 

had  the  best  of  reasons  for  believing  himself  in  the 
confidence  of  his  patient. 

Miss  Meredith,  who  was  listening  to  something  be 
sides  this  conversation,  fateful  as  it  was,  was  mean 
while  schooling  herself  for  Sweetwater's  return.  I 
could  discern  this  by  the  change  that  passed  over  her 
face  just  when  his  steps  began  to  be  heard;  and  was 
conscious  of  quite  a  personal  shock  when  I  saw  her 
hand  fall  involuntarily  on  her  bosom  as  if  the  thing 
he  sought  was  there  and  not  in  the  rooms  above. 

Cursing  myself  for  the  infatuation  which  would 
not  let  my  eyes  leave  her  face,  I  turned  with  sudden 
impulse  into  the  reception  room  opening  on  my  right. 
But  I  speedily  stepped  back  again.  Miss  Meredith, 
who  seemed  to  have  gained  some  confidence  by  my 
presence,  had  feebly  uttered  my  name.  It  seemed 
that  the  child  had  been  heard  to  cry  above,  and  that 
the  coroner  had  refused  to  let  her  go  up. 

I  made  my  way  to  her  side,  and,  despite  Alfred's 
scowls,  entered  into  conversation  with  her,  urging 
her  to  be  calm  and  wait  patiently  for  the  detective's 
return. 

"The  child  has  its  father,"  I  suggested. 

But  this  did  not  seem  to  afford  her  much  comfort. 
She  wrung  her  hands  in  her  anxiety,  and  showed  no 
relief  till  her  cousin,  followed  by  the  watchful  detect 
ive,  was  again  seen  on  the  stairs. 

Then  she  took  my  arm.  She  needed  it,  for  life 
and  death  were  in  the  gaze  she  fixed  upon  the  latter. 
And  he — well,  I  had  never  seen  the  man  before  that 
night;  yet  I  felt  as  certain  from  the  way  his  feet  fell 
on  the  stairs  he  so  slowly  descended  that  he  had  been 


68  THE   SHADOW 

successful  in  his  search,  and  that  the  piece  of  paper 
which  rustled  so  gently  in  his  hand  was  the  one  Mr. 
Gryce  had  declared  to  be  of  such  importance,  and 
which  she — but  what  man  can  complete  a  thought 
suggestive  of  distrust,  while  the  hand  of  its  lovely 
object  presses  warmly  on  his  arm,  and  the  eyes  whose 
glance  he  both  fears  and  loves  rest  upon  his  in  a  con 
fidence  which  in  itself  is  a  rebuke? 

I  gave  up  speculation  and  devoted  myself  to  sustain 
ing  Miss  Meredith  in  her  present  ordeal.  As  Sweetwa- 
ter  reached  the  last  step  she  murmured  these  words : 

"  I  tried;  but  fate  has  rebuked  me.  Now  I  see  my 
duty." 

Her  eyes  had  not  followed  Leighton's  figure  as  he 
joined  his  brothers  in  the  library,  but  mine  did,  and 
it  did  not  make  my  heart  any  lighter  to  see  from  the 
glance  he  tossed  her  on  entering  that  he  was  prepared 
for  some  event  serious  enough  to  warrant  all  this 
emotion. 

"You  have  found  what  you  have  sought!"  she 
cried,  intercepting  the  young  detective  in  her  anxiety 
to  end  the  suspense  it  took  all  her  strength  to  sustain. 

His  smile  was  dubious,  but  it  was  a  smile.  Mean 
time  the  paper  he  held  had  found  its  way  into  the 
coroner's  hands. 

"Call  Gryce!"  shouted  out  that  functionary,  with 
a  doubtful  look  at  the  slip  in  his  hand;  "  I  shall  need 
his  experience  in  deciphering  this." 

The  detective  was  at  his  side  in  an  instant,  and  to 
gether  they  bent  over  the  scrap.  The  suspense  was 
great,  and  the  moment  well-nigh  intolerable.  Then  we 
saw  the  detective's  finger  rest  on  a  certain  portion  of 


THE   GENTLEMAN  B  Y  THE  NE  WEL-POST       69 

the  paper  they  were  mutually  consulting,  and  remain 
there.  The  coroner  read  the  words  thus  indicated, 
and  his  face  showed  both  strong  and  sudden  feeling. 

"Ah!"  he  ejaculated.  "What  do  you  make  out 
of  that?" 

The  detective  uttered  a  few  low  words,  and  taking 
the  piece  which  had  been  in  the  envelope  he  fitted  it 
to  the  one  held  by  the  coroner.  We  could  all  see  that 
they  were  part  of  the  same  sheet. 

"I  should  like  to  see  if  it  also  fits  the  portion  that 
was  left  in  the  typewriter,"  suggested  the  other,  ignor 
ing  the  anxious  looks  bent  upon  him  from  every  side. 
Passing  by  us  all,  he  laid  the  three  pieces  together  on 
the  library  table  with  a  glance  at  the  young  Gillespies 
which  was  not  without  its  element  of  compassion. 

"Let  us  see  it.  What's  on  it?"  urged  Alfred. 
"Why,  this  is  worse  than  father's  death." 

"  If  Miss  Meredith  will  tell  me  how  this  central  por 
tion  came  to  be  on  the  attic  floor,  I  will  presently 
oblige  you,"  rejoined  the  coroner. 

She  who  of  all  present  showed  no  interest  in  the 
completed  sheet  answered  instantly,  and  without  any 
further  attempt  at  subterfuge  or  denial: 

"I  carried  it  there.  I  had  come  upon  my  uncle 
lying  dead  in  his  study,  and  thinking,  fearing,  that  he 
had  been  struck  while  at  the  typewriter,  I  flew  to  the 
latter,  and,  lifting  up  the  carriage,  consulted  the  letter 
attached  to  it  for  some  indication  of  this,  and  saw — 
George,  Leigh  ton,  Alfred,"  she  vehemently  cried, 
facing  them  with  a  look  before  which  each  proud  and 
spirited  head  sank  in  turn,  "I  do  not  know  upon 
which  of  your  three  souls  the  weight  of  this  crime 


7O  THE   SHADOW 

rests.  But  one  of  you,  one,  I  say,  lies  under  the  ban  of 
your  father's  denunciation.  Read! "  And  her  trem 
bling  finger  crossed  that  of  the  detective  and  fell 
upon  a  line  terminating  the  half-finished  letter  which 
they  had  already  partially  read. 

This  was  the  appearance  of  that  letter  as  now  pre 
sented: 


c.  Taylor1,  ts(j,, 
18  State  St., 

Boston,  Mass., 


In  regard  to   the  financing  of  the  $10,000,006. 
'mentioned   in  our  conversation  on  the  12th  inst^,    tt. 
13  of  the  utmost   importance  that   I   am  placed  aa 
_Boon  as  possible   In   full  possession 

I  the  pj-OD00tf'"coTerod  b7  thesa 
bonds. 

First,    the  dXWjfi   cost  per  mile,    and   if  such 
cost  covers   the  necessary   equipment  for  same  bath 
for  freight  and  passenger  service;   also  it  these 
bonds  ara  the  first  lien         one  of  nor  sons  he 


"  Those  last  words  were  written  after  he  felt  himself 
sinking  under  the  poison,"  rang  out  in  instinctive 
emphasis  from  her  lips.  "Contradict  me,  George! 
Contradict  me,  Leighton!  or  you,  Alfred,  if  you  can! 
It  would  give  me  new  life.  It  would  restore  me ' 

She  was  sinking,  fainting,  almost  at  the  point  of 
death  herself,  but  not  a  voice  was  lifted,  not  a  hand 
raised.  This  suggestion  of  crime  had  robbed  them, 
one  and  all,  of  breath,  almost  of  life. 


VIII 

THE  MAN  BEHIND  THE  SCREEN 

OUDDENLY  one  voice  rang  out  in  passionate  pro- 
O  test.  "Hope!  Hope!  It  was  not  I!  It  was  not  I!" 
And  Alfred,  leaving  his  brothers,  stood  before  his 
young  cousin,  with  self -forgetful  gestures  expressing 
a  denial  which  was  half-prayer. 

George  flushed,  and  his  fist  rose;  Leighton  drooped 
his  head  in  shame — or  was  it  sorrow;  but  the  next 
minute  he  had  that  rebellious  fist  in  his  own  clutch. 
Miss  Meredith  kept  her  eyes  turned  sedulously  away 
from  them  all. 

"I  only  want  one  of  you  to  speak;  the  man  who 
can  exonerate  his  brothers  by  confessing  his  own 
guilt.  Do  not  touch  me!" 

This  to  Alfred,  whose  hand  had  caught  hold  of  her 
dress. 

With  an  air  of  pride,  the  first  I  had  seen  in  him,  the 
youngest  son  of  Mr.  Gillespie  withdrew  from  her  side 
and  took  up  his  stand  on  the  farther  side  of  the  hall. 

"You  are  quick  with  your  suspicions,"  he  flashed 
out.  "What  sort  of  men  do  you  think  us,  that  you 
should  allow  an  incoherent  phrase  like  this  at  the  end 
of  a  letter  begun  in  health  but  finished  in  agony, 
prejudice  you  to  the  death  against  persons  of  your 
own  blood  ?  It  would  take  more  than  that  to  make 
me  think  evil  of  you,  Hope." 

71 


72  THE   SHADOW 

It  was  a  natural  reproach,  and  it  told  not  only  upon 
her,  but  upon  us  all.  The  words  which  had  precipita 
ted  this  situation  might  mean  much  and  might  mean 
little.  Had  the  reputation  of  these  young  men  been 
of  a  more  stable  character,  or  had  no  attempt  been 
made  to  suppress  this  portion  of  the  letter,  suspicion 
would  never  have  followed  the  discovery  of  this  in 
congruous  addition  to  the  half-finished  business  letter 
found  in  the  typewriter;  "one  of  my  sons  he" — 
was  that  an  accusation  of  crime  ?  George  and  Leigh- 
ton  were  on  the  point  of  asserting  not,  and  Alfred  had 
just  begun  to  swagger  with  an  air  of  injured  pride, 
when  Miss  Meredith,  recovering  herself,  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  bosom  in  repetition  of  her  former  action, 
and  slowly  drew  forth  a  letter,  the  appearance  of 
which  evidently  produced  a  new  and  still  greater 
shock  in  the  breasts  of  the  three  young  men. 

" I  shall  not  try  to  vindicate  myself,"  said  she.  "I 
have  lived  like  a  sister  in  this  house,  and  you  would 
have  a  right  to  reproach  me  if  it  were  not  for  what  I 
hold  here.  Alfred,  you  have  complained  that  the 
few  words  left  in  the  typewriter  by  your  dying  father 
were  incoherent  and  unsatisfactory.  Will  you  regard 
as  equally  meaningless  this  letter  written  four  weeks 
ago?  Sir," — here  she  turned  to  the  coroner, — "my 
uncle  was  ill  a  month  ago.  It  was  not  a  dangerous 
illness,  but  the  remedies  given — Oh !  Dr.  Bennett  help 
me  to  say  it — were  remedies  we  all  knew  to  be  dan 
gerous  if  taken  in  too  great  quantities.  One  night — 
I  cannot  go  on — he  had  reason  to  think  his  glass  was 
tampered  with,  and  after  that,  he  wrote  this  letter, 
and  charged  me  with  its  delivery  in  case  he — he — Ah ! 


THE  MAN  BEHIND    THE  SCREEN  73 

I  need  not  say  in  case  of  what.  You  have  seen  his 
dear  head  lying  low  in  the  room  over  there.  Only, 
— as  this  letter  is  addressed  to  my  cousins  conjointly, 
will  you  allow  them  to  read  it  without  witnesses  if 
they  will  swear  to  respect  it  and  restore  it  in  an  un- 
mutilated  condition  to  your  hands?  It  is  the  only 
favour  I  ask  you  to  show  them,  and  this  I  humbly  en 
treat  you  to  grant,  if  only  in  recognition  of  what  I 
have  suffered  at  having  precipitated  this  horror  when 
I  only  meant  to — to " 

She  was  sinking — falling — nay,  almost  at  the  point 
of  death  herself.  But  she  reached  out  the  letter,  and 
the  coroner,  giving  it  one  glance,  handed  it  over  to 
Leighton  as  the  one  least  shaken  by  the  calamity 
which  had  just  overwhelmed  the  house. 

"God  forbid  that  I  should  deny  to  sons  the  privi 
lege  of  being  the  first  to  read  the  last  letter  addressed 
them  by  their  father." 

But  he  made  no  move  towards  drawing  the  curtain 
between  himself  and  the  room  from  which  he  was  re 
treating,  nor  could  he  be  said  to  have  really  taken  his 
eye  off  any  of  them  during  the  reading  of  this  long 
letter. 

"You  see  I  had  need  of  a  friend,"  murmured  Miss 
Meredith,  swaying  towards  me. 

I  gave  her  a  commiserating  look.  Was  ever  a  girl 
more  unfortunately  situated?  Two  at  least  of  the 
men  against  whom  she  had  felt  forced  to  utter  this 
denunciation  of  crime,  loved  her  (or  so  I  believed), 
Alfred  passionately,  George  with  less  show  of  feel 
ing,  but  possibly  with  fully  as  much  depth  and 
fervour. 


74  THE   SHADOW 

"You  might  have  held  the  letter  back,"  I  whis 
pered. 

But  she  met  me  with  a  noble  look. 

"You  mean  if  I  have  not  drawn  suspicion  upon 
them  by  my  first  subterfuge.  But  with  so  much  in 
their  disfavour,  how  could  I  calculate  upon  another 
opportunity  of  seeing  them  all  together.  And  they 
must  read  it  together.  So  my  uncle  told  me.  But 
he  never  thought  it  would  be  with  police-officers  in 
the  house." 

Here  the  coroner  advanced  to  question  her,  and  I 
am  happy  to  say  that  my  presence  gave  her  courage 
to  bear  up  under  the  ordeal.  This  was  what  he  elici 
ted  from  her. 

She  did  not  know  what  was  in  the  letter.  It  had 
been  written  by  her  uncle  while  still  on  his  sick  bed 
and  after  an  experience  which  I  will  not  relate  here, 
as  it  will  be  found  more  fully  stated  in  the  letter  it 
self.  This  letter  I  will  reproduce  for  you  at  once, 
though  it  was  weeks  before  I  knew  its  whole  contents : 

GEORGE,  LEIGHTON,  AND  ALFRED: 

I  may  not  have  been  a  good  father,  but  I  have  at  least  been 
a  just  one.  Though  each  and  all  of  you  since  coming  to  man's 
estate  have  given  me  great  cause  for  complaint,  I  have  never 
been  harsh  towards  you,  nor  have  I  ever  denied  you  anything 
from  mere  caprice  or  from  an  egotistic  desire  to  save  myself 
trouble.  Yet  to  one  of  you  my  life  is  of  so  little  value  that 
he  is  willing  to  resort  to  crime  to  rid  himself  of  me.  Does  this 
shock  you,  Leighton,  George,  Alfred?  We  are  a  Christian 
family,  members  of  an  honourable  community,  trained  each 
and  all  in  religious  principles,  you,  by  the  best,  the  sweet 
est  of  mothers — does  it  move  you  to  think  that  one  of  you 
could  contemplate  parricide  and  even  attempt  it  ?  It  moves 


THE  MAN  BEHIND    THE   SCREEN  75 

me;  and  in  two  of  you  must  awaken  a  horror,  the  anticipation 
of  which  affords  me  the  sole  comfort  now  remaining  to  my 
doomed  and  miserable  life.  For  nothing  will  ever  make  me 
believe  that  this  act  was  a  concerted  one  or  that  the  attempt 
which  has  just  been  made  upon  my  life  had  its  birth  in  more 
than  one  dark  breast.  One  guilty  soul  there  is  among  you, 
but  only  one;  and  lest  to  the  remaining  two  the  accusation 
I  have  just  made  may  seem  fanciful,  unreal,  the  result  of 
nightmare  or  the  effect  of  fever,  I  will  relate  what  happened 
in  this  room  last  night,  just  as  I  related  it  to  Hope  when  she 
asked  me  this  morning  why  I  seemed  so  loath  to  see  you  before 
you  went  out  to  your  several  lounging  places. 

I  was  dozing.  The  lamp  which  since  my  illness  has  never 
been  turned  out  in  my  room,  threw  great  shadows  on  wall  and 
ceiling.  I  seemed  conscious  of  these  shadows,  though  I  was 
half  asleep,  but  not  so  conscious  that  I  was  not  aware  of  the 
light  shining  through  the  transom  from  the  gas  jet  near  the 
top  of  the  stairs.  This  light  has  always  been  company  for 
me,  especially  in  wakeful  nights  or  when  I  found  myself 
troubled  by  dreams  or  any  physical  distress.  It  seemed  to 
connect  me  with  the  rest  of  the  house,  and  simple  as  it  may 
seem  to  you,  accounts  for  the  cheerfulness  with  which  I  have 
declined  the  offers  of  my  sons  to  sit  with  me  during  these  last 
painful  nights.  I  had  no  need  of  their  company  while  this 
light  shone;  and  as  for  pain — why,  that  is  an  evil  which  all 
men  are  called  upon  sooner  or  later  to  endure. 

I  was  resting  then,  in  this  mild  reflected  light,  when  sud 
denly  it  went  out.  This  woke  me,  for  the  orders  are  strict 
that  this  jet  be  left  burning  till  the  servants  come  downstairs 
in  the  morning.  But  I  did  not  stir  in  my  bed;  I  simply  lis 
tened.  Though  aroused  and  somewhat  disturbed  by  this 
palpable  disregard  of  my  wishes,  I  exerted  all  of  my  faculties 
to  detect  the  step  I  now  heard  loitering  about  my  door.  But 
it  was  studiously  cautious  and  made  no  distinct  sound  in  my 
ear.  I  did  not  like  this,  and  listened  still  more  intently, 
whereupon  I  heard  the  door  open  and  someone  come  in,  softly, 
and  with  long  pauses  such  as  were  not  wont  to  accompany  the 
entrance  of  any  member  of  my  household.  I  was  deciding 


76  THE   SHADOW 

whether  to  raise  an  alarm  or  lie  still  and  let  myself  be 
robbed  of  the  money  which  I  had  just  received  from  the  bank, 
when  I  heard  the  whispered  "Father"  with  which  one  and 
all  of  you  approach  me  at  night  when  you  wish  to  ascertain 
if  I  am  asleep  or  awake. 

Why  did  I  hear  myself  called  and  yet  make  no  reply  ?  What 
was  in  my  heart,  or  what  have  I  seen  of  late  in  your  natures 
or  conduct,  that  I  should  remain  quiet  under  this  appeal  and 
lie  there  shut-eyed  and  watchful?  I  had  no  definite  reason 
for  doubting  any  of  you.  I  knew  you  were  in  debt  and  that 
two  of  you  at  least  were  in  crying  need  of  money,  but  I  hardly 
think  I  dreaded  the  rifling  of  my  desk  by  the  hands  of  one  of 
my  sons.  Yet  that  approach  so  gentle  and  so  measured !  the 
drawn-in  breath!  the  shadow  that  grew  and  grew  upon  the 
wall! — all  these  spoke  of  something  quite  different  from 
the  anxiety  of  a  son  keeping  watch  over  a  sick  father's 
slumbers. 

The  desk  was  near  the  window  towards  which  my  eyes  were 
turned  in  open  watchfulness,  and  I  hoped  by  lying  still  to 
catch  sight  of  the  intruder's  figure  at  the  moment  of  his  pass 
ing  between  me  and  the  faint  illumination  made  on  the  cur 
tains  by  the  street  lamp  opposite.  But  the  intruder  did  not 
advance  in  that  direction.  He  passed  instead  to  the  little  cup 
board  over  the  wash-stand,  where,  as  you  all  know,  my  medi 
cines  are  kept.  This  I  was  made  aware  of  by  the  faint  click 
made  by  one  bottle  striking  another.  "George  has  come 
home  ill,  or  Leighton  has  one  of  his  terrible  headaches,"  was 
the  soothing  thought  which  then  came  to  me,  and  I  found  it 
difficult  not  to  speak  out  and  ask  who  was  sick  and  what 
bottle  was  wanted.  But  the  something  which  from  the  first 
had  acted  in  the  way  of  restraint  upon  me,  held  me  still,  and  I 
remained  dumb  while  that  sneaking  hand  continued  to  fum 
ble  among  the  phials  and  glasses.  Suddenly  a  fear  struck 
me,  a  fear  so  far  removed  from  any  which  I  had  ever  before 
known,  that  my  whole  attitude  of  thought  towards  my  sons 
must  have  undergone  an  instantaneous  change — a  gulf  open 
ing  where  an  instant  before  was  confidence  and  love.  The 
medicine  was  kept  there  from  which  my  nightly  dose  was 


THE  MAN  BEHIND    THE   SCREEN  JJ 

prepared;  a  medicine  which  you  have  all  heard  declared  by 
my  physician  to  be  a  deadly  poison,  which  must  be  measured 
most  carefully  and  given  in  only  such  doses  as  he  had  pre 
scribed.  Could  it  be  that  my  son  was  feeling  about  for  this? 
Had  George  bet  once  too  often  on  that  mare  which  will  be  his 
ruin,  or  Leighton  found  his  religion  an  insufficient  cloak  for 
indiscretions  whichever  shunned  the  light  of  day;  or  Alfred — 
the  child  of  my  heart,  he  whom  his  dying  mother  placed  as  a 
last  trust  in  my  arms — confounded  the  ennui  of  inaction  with 
that  weariness  of  life  which  is  the  bane  of  rich  men's  sons  ?  I 
know  the  despairs  that  come  in  youth,  and  I  quaked  where  I 
lay;  but  it  was  not  upon  self-destruction  that  this  man  at  the 
cupboard  was  bent.  I  felt  my  whole  frame  tremble  and  my 
heart  sink  in  unutterable  despair  as  he  advanced,  still  quietly 
and  with  great  pauses,  up  to  the  foot-board  of  my  bed,  then 
around  to  the  side,  protected,  as  you  know,  by  a  screen,  till 
he  crouched  out  of  sight,  but  within  reach  of  the  small  table 
where  my  glass  stands  with  the  spoon  beside  it,  ready  for  my 
use  if  I  grow  restless  and  weary. 

To  have  turned,  to  have  intercepted  the  creeping  figure  in 
its  work,  and  thus  have  known  definitely  and  forever  which 
one  of  you  had  thus  furtively  visited  my  medicine  cabinet 
before  proceeding  to  my  bedside,  might  have  been  the  nat 
ural  course  with  some;  but  it  was  not  my  course.  I  was  not 
content  just  to  interrupt.  I  wanted  to  know  the  full  extent  of 
what  I  had  to  fear.  A  remark  which  Dr.  Bennett  had  once 
let  fall  recurred  to  me,  transfixing  me  to  my  bed.  "If  you 
were  not  a  careful  man,"  he  had  said  in  diagnosing  my  present 
illness,  "I  should  say  that  you  had  taken  something  foreign 
into  your  system;  something  which  has  no  business  there; 
something  which  under  other  circumstances  and  in  another 
man's  case  I  should  denominate  poison. "  It  had  seemed 
nonsense  to  me  at  the  time,  and  I  laughed  at  what  I  consid 
ered  a  fatuous  remark,  uttered  with  unnecessary  gravity; 
but  now  that  there  was  really  poison  in  the  house,  and  one 
of  my  own  blood  stood  hiding  behind  the  screen  within  a  foot 
of  my  medicine  glass,  I  could  not  but  choke  down  the  cry 
which  this  thought  caused  to  rise  in  my  throat  and  listen  for 


78  THE   SHADOW 

what  might  come.  Alas !  I  was  destined  to  behold  with  my 
eyes  as  well  as  hear  with  my  ears  the  next  move  made  by  my 
unknown  visitant.  By  the  grace  of  God  or  through  some 
coincidence  equally  providential,  the  gas  at  this  momentous 
instant  was  relit  in  the  hall,  and  I  perceived,  amid  the  old 
shadows  thus  called  out  upon  the  wall,  a  new  one — that  of  a 
hand  holding  a  bottle,  which,  projecting  itself  beyond  the 
straight  line  cast  by  the  screen,  was  now  stealing  slowly  but 
surely  in  the  direction  of  the  table  on  which  stood  my  glass 
of  medicine.  I  did  not  gasp  or  cry.  Thought,  feeling,  con 
sciousness  even  of  my  own  unfathomable  misery  seemed  lost 
in  the  one  instinct — to  watch  that  hand.  Would  it  falter? 
Should  I  see  it  tremble  or  hesitate  in  its  short  passage  across 
the  faintly  illumined  space  upon  which  my  eyes  were  fixed? 
Yes,  some  monition  of  conscience,  some  secret  fear  or  filial 
remembrance  made  it  pause  for  an  instant;  but  even  as  my 
heart  bounded  in  glad  relief  and  human  feelings  began  to  re- 
awake  in  my  frozen  breast,  it  steadied  and  passed  on,  and 
though  I  could  no  longer  see  aught  but  a  shadowy  arm,  I  could 
hear  one — two — three — a  dozen  drops  falling  into  my  drink — a 
sound  which,  faint  as  it  was,  made  the  guilty  heart  behind 
the  screen  quake;  for  the  hand  shook  as  it  retreated,  and  I 
beheld  distinctly  outlined  on  the  illumined  space  before  me 
the  end  of  the  semi-detached  label  which  marked  the  special 
bottle  on  which  the  word  poison  is  printed  in  large  letters. 

No  further  doubt  was  possible.  The  medicine  in  my  glass 
had  been  strengthened  and  by  the  hand  of  one  of  my  sons. 

Which  one  ? 

In  the  misery  of  the  moment  I  felt  as  if  I  did  not  care.  That 
any  of  you  should  seek  my  death  was  an  overwhelming  grief 
to  me.  But  as  thought  and  reason  returned,  the  wild  desire 
to  know  just  what  and  whom  I  had  to  fear  seized  me  in  the 
midst  of  my  horror,  mixed  with  another  sentiment  harder 
to  explain,  and  which  I  can  best  characterise  as  a  feeling  of 
dread  lest  I  should  betray  my  suspicions  and  so  raise  between 
my  children  and  myself  an  insurmountable  barrier. 

Subduing  my  emotion  and  summoning  to  my  aid  all  the 
powers  of  acting  with  which  I  have  been  by  nature  endowed, 


THE  MAN  BEHIND    THE   SCREEN  79 

I  moved  restlessly  under  the  clothes,  calling  out  in  a  sort  of 
sleepy  alarm : 

"Who  's  there?  Is  it  you,  George?  If  so,  reach  me  my 
medicine." 

But  no  George  stepped  forth. 

"Leighton?"  I  cried  petulantly.  "Surely  I  hear  one  of 
you  in  the  room."  But  my  son  Leighton  did  not  reply. 

I  did  not  call  for  Alfred.  I  could  not !  He  was  the  last  son 
of  his  mother. 

Did  I  wrong  the  others  in  not  uttering  his  name  also? 

Meantime  all  was  quiet  behind  the  screen.  Then  I  heard 
a  quick  movement,  followed  by  the  shutting  of  a  door,  and  I 
realised  that  an  escape  had  been  effected  from  the  room  in  a 
way  I  had  not  calculated  on — that  is,  by  means  of  the  dress 
ing-room  opening  out  of  the  alcove  in  which  my  bed  stands. 

I  had  thought  myself  a  weak  man  up  to  that  hour;  but 
when  I  heard  that  door  close,  I  bounded  to  my  feet  and  at 
tempted  to  reach  the  hall  before  the  man  who  had  thus 
escaped  me  could  find  refuge  in  any  of  the  adjoining  rooms. 
But  I  must  have  fallen  insensible  almost  immediately,  for 
when  I  came  to  myself  I  found  the  foot-board  of  the  bed 
within  reach  of  my  hand,  and  the  clock  on  the  point  of  strik 
ing  two. 

I  dragged  myself  up  and  staggered  back  to  bed.  I  had 
neither  the  courage  nor  the  strength  to  push  the  matter  fur 
ther  at  that  time.  Indeed,  I  felt  a  sort  of  physical  fear,  prob 
ably  the  result  of  illness,  which  made  it  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  traverse  the  halls  and  creep  from  room  to  room  seeking 
for  guilt  in  eyes  whose  expression  up  to  this  unhallowed  hour 
had  betrayed  nothing  worse  than  a  reckless  disregard  of  my 
wishes. 

Yet  it  was  torment  unspeakable  to  lie  there  in  an  uncer 
tainty  which  threw  a  cloud  over  all  my  sons.  For  hours  my 
thoughts  ran  the  one  gamut,  George,  Leighton,  Alfred,  cling 
ing  agonisedly  to  each  beloved  name  in  turn,  only  to  drop 
into  a  dreadful  uncertainty  as  I  remembered  the  temptations 
besetting  each  one  of  you,  and  the  readiness  with  which  you 
all,  from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  have  ever  succumbed 


80  THE   SHADOW 

to  them.  There  was  no  determining  point  in  the  character 
of  any  of  you  which  made  me  able  to  say  in  this  solitary  and 
awful  communion  with  my  own  fears,  "This  one  at  least  is 
innocent!"  If  I  dwelt  on  George's  generous  good  nature,  I 
also  recalled  his  wild  extravagance  and  the  debts  he  so  reck 
lessly  heaps  up  at  every  turn  he  makes  in  this  God-forsaken 
city;  if  some  recollection  of  Leighton's  strict  ways  in  open 
matters  of  conscience  came  to  soothe  me,  there  instantly  came 
with  it  the  remembrance  of  the  various  tales  which  had  reached 
my  ears  of  certain  secret  attachments  which  drew  him  into 
circles  where  crime  is  more  than  a  suggestion,  and  murder  a 
possible  attendant  upon  every  feast.  Then  Alfred — youngest 
of  all  but  the  least  youthful  in  his  attitude  towards  the  world 
and  his  fellow-men — what  honourable  ambition  had  he  ever 
shown  calculated  to  give  me  solace  at  this  awful  time,  and 
make  the  association  of  his  name  with  a  damnable  crime  an 
impossibilty  and  an  outrage  ? 

Meanwhile,  my  whole  mental  vision  was  clouded  with  the 
pictured  remembrances  of  your  faces  as  seen  in  childhood, 
in  early  youth,  or  at  any  other  time,  indeed,  than  the  intoler 
able  present.  George's,  when  he  brought  home  his  first  school 
medal;  Leighton's,  when  he  denied  himself  a  new  pair  of 
skates  that  he  might  give  the  money  to  a  crying  street  urchin ; 
Alfred's,  when  the  fever  left  him  and  his  cheeks  grew  rosy 
again  with  renewed  health.  All  these  young  and  innocent 
faces  crowded  about  me,  awakening  poignant  suggestions  of 
the  change  which  a  few  short,  short  years  had  wrought  in 
relations  which  once  seemed  warm  and  alive  with  promise. 
Then,  a  group  of  frank-eyed  boys  ;  now,  —  this  awful 
question:  which  ? 

It  was  not  till  an  hour  had  passed  that  I  remembered  that 
the  phial  had  not  been  returned  to  the  cabinet.  In  whose 
possession  would  it  be  found  ?  Should  I  have  a  search  made 
for  it?  I  turned  cold  in  bed  at  the  debasing,  the  intolerable 
prospect  of  acting  as  detective  in  my  own  house.  Then  the 
poisoned  glass!  it  still  stood  beside  me;  if  I  left  it  untouched 
it  would  show  suspicion  on  my  part,  and  suspicion  might 
precipitate  my  doom.  How  could  I  avoid  taking  it  without 


THE  MAN  BEHIND    THE   SCREEN  8 1 

raising  doubts  as  to  my  discovery  of  the  trick  which  had 
been  played  so  near  me?  In  the  feverish  condition  of  my 
mind  but  one  plan  suggested  itself.  Throwing  out  my  arm, 
I  precipitated  the  glass  to  the  floor,  over  which  I  heard  it 
roll,  with  extraordinary  sensations.  Then  I  waited  for  day 
break,  in  much  the  same  condition  of  mind  in  which  a  man 
awaits  his  last  hour;  for  my  heart  yearned  over  my  sons  even 
while  panting  under  the  consciousness  that  one  of  them  was 
a  monster  of  ingratitude  and  innate  depravity. 

When  Hewson  and  the  girls  came  down,  and  I  heard  the 
stir  of  life  in  the  house,  I  rang  my  bell  and  asked  for  Hope. 
She  came  in  with  beaming  face  and  a  smile  full  of  happiness. 
She  had  risen  from  a  beauty  sleep  and,  possibly  because  my 
thoughts  had  been  so  dark,  I  had  never  seen  her  look  so  bright 
and  lovely.  But  her  cheeks  paled  as  she  approached  my 
bedside  and  noticed  my  miserable  appearance;  and  it  was 
with  sudden  anxiety  she  cried: 

"  What  a  wretched  night  you  must  have  had,  uncle!  You 
look  poorly  this  morning.  You  should  have  sent  for  me 
before." 

Again  I  summoned  up  all  my  powers  of  acting. 

"  I  knocked  over  my  medicine  in  the  night.  Perhaps  that 
is  why  I  look  so  wretched.  I  did  not  sleep  after  four.  You  can 
say  so,  if  any  of  the  boys  ask  after  me  at  the  breakfast  table." 

With  a  woman's  solicitude  she  moved  around  to  my  side, 
where  the  screen  stood. 

"Why,  what  's  this?"  she  exclaimed,  stooping  as  her  foot 
encountered  some  small  object. 

I  expected  her  to  lift  the  glass.  Instead  of  that  she  lifted 
the  bottle.  It  had  been  left  there  on  the  floor  and  not  carried 
out  of  the  room,  as  I  had  naturally  supposed. 

I  endeavoured  to  look  undisturbed  and  as  if  this  bottle  had 
been  thrown  over  with  the  glass,  but  I  failed  pitiably.  At 
the  sight  of  her  dear,  womanly  face  and  the  affection  beam 
ing  in  every  look,  I  broke  down  and  raised  my  arms  implor 
ingly  towards  her. 

"Come  to  my  arms!"  I  prayed.  "Let  me  feel  one  true 
head  on  my  breast." 


82  THE   SHADOW 

The  next  minute  I  was  conscious  of  having  said  a  word  too 
much.  Her  look,  which  you  all  know  and  love,  changed, 
and,  while  she  submitted  to  my  caresses  and  even  warmly 
returned  them,  it  was  with  an  appearance  of  doubt  which  I 
almost  cursed  myself  for  having  roused  in  that  innocent  breast. 

"Why  one  true  heart?"  she  repeated.  "Are  there  not 
others  in  this  house  ?  George  and  Alfred  love  you  devotedly ; 
and  little  Claire — what  child  could  show  more  fondness  for  a 
grandfather  than  she  ? ' ' 

Why  had  she  not  included  Leighton  ? 

I  endeavoured  to  right  myself  with  some  mechanical  phrase 
or  other,  but  the  attempt  was  not  very  successful,  and  she 
was  leaving  the  room  in  great  disturbance  when  I  called  her 
hurriedly  back. 

"I  want  you  to  smile  as  usual,"  I  gravely  enjoined. 
"George's  extravagances  and  Alfred's  caprices  are  no  new 
story  to  you.  I  have  been  thinking  about  them,  that  is  all, 
but  I  had  rather  they  did  not  know  it." 

I  could  not  mention  Leighton 's  name,  either. 

Meantime  she  was  standing  there  with  the  poison  bottle  in 
her  hand.  I  could  not  bear  to  look  at  it,  and  motioned  her 
to  restore  it  to  the  cabinet.  As  she  did  so,  I  perceived  her 
turn  with  half-open  lips,  as  if  about  to  ask  some  question. 
But  she  either  lacked  the  courage  or  the  will  to  do  so,  for  she 
proceeded  to  the  cabinet  with  the  bottle,  which  she  placed 
quietly  on  the  shelf.  But  almost  instantly  she  took  it  up  again. 

"Why,  uncle,"  she  cried,  "there  is  not  as  much  here  as 
there  ought  to  be!  I  am  sure  the  bottle  was  half  full  last 
night." 

And  then  I  remembered  it  was  she  who  prepared  my  medi 
cine  for  me . 

"And  I  left  it  on  the  shelf,"  she  went  on.  "Uncle,  how 
came  it  to  be  lying  by  the  side  of  your  bed  ?  Did  you  try  to 
strengthen  the  dose  ?  You  know  you  ought  not  to ;  Dr.  Ben 
nett  said  that  three  drops  in  half  a  glass  of  water  were  all 
you  could  take  with  safety." 

I  had  not  a  word  to  say.  My  mind  seemed  a  blank,  and 
no  excuse  presented  itself.  The  wish  which  I  had  openly 


THE  MAN  BEHIND    THE   SCREEN  83 

cherished  of  seeing  Hope  married  to  one  of  my  sons  clogged 
my  faculties.  My  protest  confined  itself  to  a  slow  shake  of 
the  head  and  a  dubious  smile  she  was  far  from  understanding. 

"  I  think  I  will  stay  with  you,"  she  gently  suggested.  "  Nel 
lie  will  bring  my  breakfast  up  with  yours,  and  we  can  have  a 
tete-a-tete  meal  at  your  bedside." 

But  this  did  not  chime  in  with  my  plans. 

"No,"  said  I.  "Nellie  can  stay  with  me  if  you  wish,  but 
I  want  you  to  go  down.  Your  cousins  will  miss  you  if  you 
are  not  there  to  pour  the  coffee  for  them.  Alfred  shows 
an  astonishing  punctuality  of  late,  and  George  quite  emu 
lates  his  younger  brother's  precision  and  haste.  Leighton 
was  never  late." 

Her  cheek  grew  the  colour  of  a  rose.  Never  before  had  I  so 
much  as  suggested  to  her  the  secret  wish  you  have  one  and 
all  entertained  ever  since  her  beauty  and  affectionate  nature 
brought  sunshine  into  this  cold  dwelling. 

I  was  glad  to  see  this  colour;  at  the  same  time  I  was  made 
poignantly  wretched  by  what  it  suggested.  If  Hope  loved 
one  of  my  sons,  and  he  should  be  the  one  who  had — I  felt 
more  than  ever  called  upon  to  act  warily.  Here  was  someone 
besides  myself  to  think  of.  Your  mother  is  dead  and  in  Para 
dise,  but  Hope  is  young  and  the  crushing  weight  under  which 
I  staggered  could  not  well  be  borne  by  her.  For  her  sake  if 
not  for  my  own,  I  must  locate  the  plague-spot  that  to  my 
mind  spread  defilement  over  all  my  sons.  I  must  know 
which  of  you  to  trust  and  which  to  fear;  and  that  no  mis 
take  should  follow  my  attempt  at  this,  I  made  haste  to  insure 
'that  no  warning  should  reach  you  through  any  change  in 
Hope's  manner.  So  I  reiterated  my  old  command. 

"  Let  me  see  you  smile,"  said  I,  "  or  I  shall  think  you  regard 
me  as  being  in  worse  condition  than  I  really  am.  Indeed,  I 
am  almost  well,  Hope.  My  disease  has  yielded  to  Dr.  Ben 
nett's  treatment,  and  when  I  can  rise  above  these  sickly  fan 
cies,  which  are  the  effect.no  doubt,  of  the  powerful  remedies 
I  have  taken,  I  shall  be  quite  like  my  old  self.  After  break 
fast  let  me  see  you  here  again.  I  may  have  some  letters 
requiring  an  immediate  answer." 


84  THE   SHADOW 

My  natural  tones  reassured  her.  The  force  of  my  feelings 
had  brought  some  colour  into  my  cheeks,  and  I  probably 
looked  less  ghastly.  She  turned  away  with  a  smile.  Alas! 
her  face  renewed  its  brightness  and  shone  with  sweet  expect 
ancy  as  she  approached  the  door. 

Nellie  brought  me  my  breakfast  and  I  forced  myself  to  eat 
it.  My  mind  was  regaining  its  equilibrium  and  my  will  its 
power.  Just  as  I  was  folding  my  napkin,  Hewson  came  in. 
He  had  brought  me  an  especial  tid-bit,  prepared  in  the  chaf 
ing  dish  by  Hope's  own  hands.  But  I  could  not  eat  it.  The 
thought  would  rise  that  she  had  seen  far  enough  into  my 
mind  to  imagine  I  would  dread  eating  anything  she  had  not 
cooked  for  me  herself.  As  Hewson  was  withdrawing,  I  asked 
if  you  were  all  well.  His  answer  was  an  astonished  Yes.  At 
which  I  ventured  to  remark  that  I  had  heard  someone  up  in 
the  night.  "That  was  Miss  Meredith,"  he  explained.  "I 
heard  her  tell  Mr.  George  at  the  breakfast  table  that  she  came 
down  to  your  door  about  one  in  the  morning  to  listen  if  you 
were  quiet.  She  said  she  found  the  gas  blown  out  in  the 
hall,  and  that  she  lit  it  again.  I  had  left  the  sky-light  open; 
it  don't  do  these  windy  nights,  sir." 

I  was  disturbed  by  this  discovery.  That  she  should  have 
been  at  the  door  at  a  moment  so  fraught  with  danger  and 
misery  to  myself  was  a  thrilling  thought;  besides,  might  she 
not  have  been  so  happy  or  so  unhappy  as  to  have  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  man  who  crept  out  of  my  dressing-closet  a 
moment  later!  Overcome  by  a  possibility  which  might  settle 
the  whole  question  for  me,  I  let  Hewson  go  in  silence;  and 
when  Hope  came  back,  drew  her  gently  but  resolutely  down 
on  the  bed  at  my  side  and  said  to  her  with  a  smile : 

"  I  have  just  learned  how  my  dear  girl  watches  over  her 
uncle's  slumbers.  You  are  too  careful  of  me;  I  had  rather 
have  you  sleep.  George's  room  is  on  this  floor;  let  him  come 
and  see  how  I  am  in  the  night,  if  you  are  so  uneasy." 

"George  would  never  wake  up  without  assistance,"  said 
she.  "  I  could  not  trust  you  to  his  tender  care,  well  meaning 
as  he  is." 

"Leighton,  then.     He   's  a  light  sleeper.     I  have  often 


THE  MAN  BEHIND    THE   SCREEN  85 

heard  you  say  that  you  have  heard  him  pacing  the  floor  of 
his  room  as  late  as  three  in  the  morning." 

"  But  he  sleeps  better  now.  Alfred  might  stop  on  his  way 
in ;  but  Alfred  does  not  stay  out  as  late  as  he  used  to.  He 
comes  in  quite  regularly  since  you  have  been  ill." 

Were  her  eyes  quite  true?  Yes,  they  were  as  true  as  the 
sky  they  mirror.  I  grasped  her  hand  and  ventured  upon  a 
vital  question. 

"Who  was  up  at  the  same  time  you  were  last  night  ?  I  am 
sure  I  heard  a  man's  step  in  the  hall,  just  about  the  time  you 
relighted  the  gas." 

"Did  you  know  about  the  gas?"  she  asked.  "I  found  it 
smelling  dreadfully.  But  I  did  n't  encounter  anyone  in  the 
hall.  I  guess  you  imagined  that,  uncle." 

"Perhaps!"  was  my  muttered  reply,  as  I  wondered  how  I 
was  to  ask  the  next  question.  "When  did  you  go  upstairs?" 
I  finally  inquired. 

"Oh,  right  away.  I  did  n't  wait  a  minute  after  I  found 
you  quiet.  It  was  cold  in  the  halls — Hewson  had  left  the 
sky-light  open,  and  my  trip  after  a  match  chilled  me." 

"Was  your  cousin  Leighton's  door  open?"  I  instantly  in 
quired  "  Or  did  you  hear  any  door  shut  after  you  went  up  ? " 

She  leaned  over  me  and  looked  anxiously  into  my  face. 

"Why  do  you  ask  so  many  questions,  uncle,  and  in  so 
hard  a  voice?  Would  there  have  been  any  harm  in  my 
cousins  being  up,  or  in  my  running  across  one  of  them  in  the 
hall?" 

"  Not  ordinarily.     But  last  night " 

Here  my  weakness  found  vent.  I  must  share  my  secret, 
if  only  as  a  safeguard;  I  could  not  breathe  under  the  dread 
ful  weight  imposed  upon  me  by  this  uncertainty.  And  she 
knew  I  had  some  dreadful  tale  to  tell;  this  I  was  assured  of 
by  the  white  line  creeping  into  view  about  her  lips,  and  by 
the  convulsive  clasp  with  which  she  answered  my  clutch. 
Forgetting  her  youth,  ignoring  all  the  resolves  I  had  made 
in  the  secret  watches  of  the  night,  I  drew  her  ear  down  to  my 
mouth  and  gasped  into  it  the  few  tell-tale  sentences  which 
revealed  the  dishonour  of  our  house.  I  caught  the  thrill  of 


86  THE   SHADOW 

anguish  which  went  through  her  as  I  made  plain  the  attempt 
which  had  been  made  upon  my  life,  and  never  shall  I  forget 
her  eyes  as  she  slowly  drew  back  at  the  completion  of  my  tale, 
and  surveyed  me  in  the  silent  suspense  which  seemed  to  mir 
ror  forth  my  own  deep  heart-question :  Which  ? 

Sons,  I  could  not  answer  the  demand  made  by  that  look, 
nor  can  I  answer  it  now.  You  all  came  in  soon  after,  and  each 
and  all  of  you  had  something  to  say  about  the  mischance  of 
the  night  which  had  so  visibly  affected  me.  And  I  did  not 
dare  to  read  your  eyes.  Brought  face  to  face  with  you,  I 
seemed  to  shrink  from,  rather  than  seek  for,  the  settling  of 
this  dreadful  question.  Perhaps  because  I  regard  you  with 
equal  affection.  Perhaps  because  your  mother's  picture 
was  visible  over  your  heads,  and  it  seemed  like  sacrilege  to 
her  memory  to  consider  such  a  question  under  her  loving  and 
trusting  eyes.  At  all  events  you  left  me  with  my  mind  still 
in  doubt,  to  .confront  Hope  again,  and  with  her  the  wretched 
future  which  the  night's  experience  had  unfolded  before  us 
both.  I  found  her  filled  with  a  confidence  I  could  not  easily 
share.  She  believed  in  the  integrity  of  the  man  she  held 
dearest,  but  she  would  not  tell  me  which  of  you  she  thus 
loved.  And  I  could  only  guess.  But  even  this  belief  weak 
ened  a  little  as  we  talked  together,  and  I  soon  saw  by  the  argu 
ments  she  used  that  peace  and  certainty  would  never  be  hers 
again  as  long  as  a  doubt  remained  as  to  which  of  her  cousins 
had  conceived  and  perpetrated  this  criminal  act.  As  for 
me,  the  future  holds  no  comfort.  I  shall  give  each  of  you 
a  thousand  dollars  to-night  in  celebration  of  my  anniversary 
of  marriage,  and  perhaps  this  will  awaken  the  conscience  of 
the  one  who  loves  my  money  better  than  my  life.  Then, 
though  I  shall  not  change  my  will,  I  shall  publish  abroad  that 
I  have  had  losses  which  only  a  fortunate  speculation  can 
make  good,  and  see  if  by  these  means  the  cupidity  which 
came  near  costing  me  my  life  may  not  serve  to  insure  me  a 
sufficiently  prolonged  existence  for  me  to  separate  in  my  own 
mind  the  one  black  sheep  from  the  white.  But  if  these  meas 
ures  fail,  if  I  am  doomed  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  unknown  hand 
which  I  must  henceforth  see  lifted  over  my  life,  if  Hope's 


THE   MAN  BEHIND    THE    SCREEN  8/ 

watchfulness  and  my  own  vigilance  cannot  prevent  the  repe 
tition  of  an  act  which,  if  once  determined  upon,  cannot  fail 
of  fulfilment  in  a  house  like  this,  then  this  letter  read  by 
you  all  in  concert  must  prove  the  punishment  of  the  guilty 
one.  And  since  none  of  you  will  read  these  lines  except  un 
der  these  circumstances  of  death  and  crime,  I  hereby  charge 
that  guilty  one  to  speak,  and  as  he  hopes  to  escape  my  curse 
and  the  wrath  of  an  outraged  Deity,  to  avow  his  crime  in  her 
presence  and  in  that  of  the  two  brothers  he  will  thus  exon 
erate. 

Having  done  this,  he  may  take  or  leave  his  portion  of  the 
estate.  I  shall  be  satisfied,  and  the  God  whose  command 
ments  he  has  doubly  defied  may  forget  to  avenge  a  crime  for 
given  by  its  object. 

To  my  two  sons  whose  filial  instincts  have  never  been  thus 
disturbed,  I  leave  my  blessing.  May  all  happiness  be  theirs, 
whether  this  does  or  does  not  include  the  love  of  the  dear  girl 
whose  future  I  have  thus  endeavoured  to  clear. 

ARCHIBALD  GILLESPIE. 

I  have  inserted  this  letter  here  that  you  may  under 
stand  the  situation  which  ensued  upon  its  perusal  by 
the  three  brothers. 

We,  who  had  not  read  it,  were  simply  startled  to 
note  the  way  in  which  these  three  young  men  drew 
back  as  from  a  common  centre,  as  the  last  words  fell 
from  Leighton's  well-nigh  paralysed  lips. 

Then  Alfred,  in  a  rush  of  ferocious  passion,  bounded 
forward  again,  and  striding  up  to  George,  shouted  out 
in  an  awful  voice,  "  You  are  the  man!"  and  struck 
him  without  mercy  to  the  floor. 


IX 

THE  CLOCK  THAT  HAD  RUN  DOWN 

IN  the  commotion  which  followed,  I  noted  two 
things.  First,  that  at  sight  of  this  violence  from 
one  brother  to  the  other,  Leighton  drew  back  without 
offering  assistance  to  the  one  or  rebuke  to  the  other. 
Secondly,  that  Alfred's  show  of  anger  ceased  as  soon 
as  it  had  thus  expended  itself,  and  that  his  next 
thought  was  for  Hope. 

But  he  was  not  allowed  to  approach  her.  The  cor 
oner  now  interfered  with  his  authority,  and  all  words 
were  forbidden  between  these  members  of  a  disrupted 
household,  till  the  police  had  finished  an  investigation, 
which  had  now  become  as  serious  as  the  crime  which 
had  called  it  forth. 

The  search  was  for  the  little  phial  which  had  held 
the  acid,  and  when  it  was  generally  understood  that 
the  investigation  would  not  cease  till  this  was  found, 
Miss  Meredith,  who  had  clung  to  me  as  her  one  stay 
in  this  overturning  of  every  other  natural  support, 
asked  me  in  agitated  tones  if  I  thought  her  cousins 
would  be  subjected  to  personal  search.  As  no  other 
course  was  open  to  the  police  after  the  direct  accusa 
tion  which  had  just  been  made  by  the  infuriated 
Alfred,  I  answered  in  the  affirmative;  whereupon  she 
attempted  to  flee  the  place,  saying  she  could  not  en 
dure  to  see  them  subjected  to  such  humiliation. 


THE   CLOCK   THAT  HAD  RUN  DOWN          89 

But  here  Alfred,  as  if  divining  her  thoughts,  offered 
his  person  to  Mr.  Gryce  with  the  remark : 

"I  have  nothing  to  conceal.  Look  through  my 
pockets,  if  you  wish.  You  will  find  nothing  to  reward 
your  pains.  /  am  not  the  villain." 

A  growl  of  anger,  bridled  but  concentrated,  came 
from  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  I  caught  a  sudden 
glimpse  of  George,  quivering  under  the  restraining 
hands  of  Dr.  Bennett  and  Sweetwater,  in  a  mad 
attempt  to  reach  his  brother,  whom  he  seemed  to 
curse  between  his  teeth. 

"  If  you  search  him,  you  must  do  the  same  to  me," 
were  the  words  with  which  he  seasoned  this  struggle. 
"You  will  find  nothing  more  incriminating  on  me 
than  on  him;  probably  less,  for  my  pockets  are  always 

open — while  his "  A  gnash  of  his  teeth  finished 

these  almost  inarticulate  phrases.  He  was  not  as 
easily  roused  as  his  brother,  but  more  tenacious  in 
his  passions,  and  less  readily  appeased. 

"  Peace,  there!  You  shall  both  be  satisfied,"  inter 
posed  a  businesslike  voice.  In  face  of  these  open 
accusations,  the  coroner  felt  himself  relieved  from  the 
embarrassment  which  had  hitherto  restrained  him, 
and  made  no  further  effort  to  hide  his  suspicions. 

Miss  Meredith,  who  unconsciously  to  herself  had 
drawn  me  as  far  as  the  drawing-room  door  in  her 
efforts  to  escape  the  disquieting  scene  she  had  herself 
precipitated,  paused  as  these  words  left  the  cor 
oner's  lips,  and,  yielding  to  the  terrible  fascination  of 
the  moment,  caught  my  arm,  and  clinging  thus  with 
both  hands,  turned  her  eyes  again  upon  the  men 
under  whose  roof  she  had  eaten,  slept,  and  loved;  ay, 


90  THE   SHADOW 

loved,  as  I  knew  by  the  tension  of  her  body,  com 
municated  to  me  by  the  pressure  of  her  hands. 

Suddenly  that  pressure  was  removed.  Her  hands 
had  flown  to  her  eyes,  shutting  out  the  spectacle  she 
could  no  longer  confront.  Nor  was  it  easy  for  me  to 
look  on  unmoved,  or  view  with  even  an  appearance 
of  equanimity  the  scene  before  me. 

I  have  not  mentioned  Leighton.  He  had  not  come 
forward  with  the  other  two,  but  he  allowed  his  pock 
ets  to  be  searched  without  a  protest  when  his  turn 
came,  though  it  was  very  evident  that  the  proceeding 
caused  him  more  suffering  and  a  keener  sensation  of 
disgrace  than  it  did  the  other  two.  Was  this  on  ac 
count  of  the  superior  sensitiveness  of  his  nature,  or 
because  he  shrunk  with  a  proud  man's  shame  from 
the  publicity  entailed  upon  the  anomalous  articles 
which  were  drawn  from  his  inner  pockets?  When 
some  few  minutes  later  my  eyes  fell  on  these  objects 
lying  piled  on  the  library  table,  I  marvelled  over  the 
character  of  a  man  who  could  gather  and  retain  in 
one  place  a  small  prayer-book,  a  lock  of  woman's  hair, 
the  programme  of  some  common  music  hall,  and  a 
photograph  which  after  one  glance  I  instinctively 
turned  face  downwards,  lest  it  should  fall  under  the 
eye  of  his  cousin,  whose  delicacy  could  not  fail  to  be 
hurt  by  it. 

The  phial  had  not  been  found  on  any  of  the  young 
gentlemen. 

When  Miss  Meredith  became  aware  that  the  ordeal 
was  over,  she  let  her  hands  drop,  and  stepped  hastily 
into  the  drawing-room.  I  did  not  follow  her,  but 
remained  in  the  doorway  watching  the  detectives  as 


THE   CLOCK   THAT  HAD  RUN  DOWN          9! 

they  moved  from  room  to  room  in  the  search  which 
was  now  being  extended  to  all  parts  of  the  house.  As 
I  saw  these  men  pass  so  quietly  but  with  such  an  air 
of  authority  into  rooms  where  a  few  hours  before 
they  would  have  hesitated  to  put  foot  even  upon  the 
genial  owner's  express  invitation,  I  experienced  such 
a  realisation  of  the  abyss  into  which  this  hitherto 
well-reputed  family  had  fallen  that  I  lost  for  a  little 
while  that  sense  of  personal  bitterness  which  the  pre 
dictions  evinced  by  Miss  Meredith  had  so  selfishly 
awakened. 

But  to  continue  the  summary  of  events. 

Seeing  Leighton  withdraw  upstairs,  followed  by  an 
officer  in  plain  clothes,  who  had  appeared  on  the  scene 
as  if  by  magic,  I  could  not  refrain  from  asking  why 
he  was  allowed  to  separate  himself  from  the  others, 
and  was  much  moved  at  being  informed  that  he  had 
gone  up  to  sit  by  his  child's  bed,  that  child  who  of  all 
in  the  house  had  found  her  wonted  rest. 

That  he  could  calm  himself  down  to  such  a  task 
under  the  eye  of  one  who  could  have  little  sympathy 
with  his  feelings,  whether  they  were  those  of  outraged 
innocence  or  self-accusing  guilt,  struck  me  as  the 
most  pathetic  exhibition  of  self-control  I  had  ever 
known;  and  more  than  once  during  the  busy  hour 
that  followed,  I  was  visited  by  fleeting  visions  of  this 
silent  man,  sitting  out  the  night  under  the  watch 
ful  eye  of  one  who  moved  if  he  so  much  as  lowered 
his  head  to  kiss  the  only  cheek  likely  to  smile  upon 
him  on  the  morrow  as  it  had  smiled  upon  him 
to-day. 

That  the  search  for  the  missing  phial  was  likely  to 


92  THE   SHADOW 

be  a  long-continued  one  soon  became  apparent  to 
everyone.  Two  men  who  had  carried  the  investiga 
tion  into  the  room  where  the  servants  had  been  shut 
up  since  early  evening,  came  back  with  the  report 
that  nothing  had  come  to  light  in  that  quarter.  At 
the  same  time  two  more  returned  from  above  with  a 
similar  report  in  regard  to  the  sleeping-rooms  of  the 
three  brothers.  Sweetwater  and  Gryce,  who  had 
spent  the  last  half -hour  in  the  dining-room,  appeared 
to  have  an  equally  unsatisfactory  tale  to  tell,  and  I 
was  wondering  what  move  would  now  be  made,  when 
I  intercepted  a  glance  from  the  coroner  cast  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  drawing-room,  and  realised  that  the 
law  was  no  respecter  of  persons  and  that  she,  she 
too,  might  be  called  upon  to  give  proof  of  not  having 
this  tell-tale  article  upon  her  person. 

The  prospect  of  such  an  indignity  offered  to  one 
I  regarded  with  more  than  passing  admiration  un 
nerved  me  to  such  an  extent  that  I  was  hardly  myself 
when  Dr.  Frisbie  advanced  upon  me  with  this  remark : 

"I  regret  the  necessity,  Mr.  Outhwaite;  but  the 
emergencies  of  the  case  demand  the  same  compliance 
on  your  part  as  on  that  of  the  other  gentlemen  found 
upon  this  scene  of  crime.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
we  have  the  utmost  confidence  in  your  integrity,  but 
you  were  here  when  Mr.  Gillespie  died,  and  have  been 
close  to  a  certain  member  of  this  family  many  times 
since — and,  in  short,  it  is  a  form  which  you  as  a  lawyer 
will  recognise  and " 

"No  apologies,"  I  prayed,  recalling  the  one  son  of 
Mr.  Gillespie  who  had  not  been  on  the  scene  of  crime 
at  the  time  of  his  father's  death. 


'THE  CLOCK  THAT  HAD  RUN  DOWN       93 

An  intelligent  glance  from  the  coroner  convinced 
me  that  he  was  thinking  of  him  too.  Indeed,  he 
seemed  to  be  more  than  willing  to  have  me  under 
stand  that  he  exacted  this  thorough  search  in  order 
to  fix  the  crime  on  Leighton.  For  if  the  phial  was 
not  to  be  found  anywhere  in  the  house,  the  necessary 
conclusion  must  be  that  it  had  been  carried  out  of  it 
by  the  one  person  known  to  have  left  it  during 
the  critical  half-hour  preceding  Mr.  Gillespie's 
death. 

"I  understand  your  thoughts,"  quoth  the  coroner, 
who  seemed  to  read  my  face  like  an  open  book.  "The 
phial  may  have  been  smashed  on  the  sidewalk  or 
thrown  into  some  refuse  barrel.  But  that  would  be 
the  unwisest  thing  a  guilty  man  could  do.  For  its 
odour  is  unmistakable,  and  once  it  is  found  by  the 
men  I  will  set  looking  for  it  at  daybreak —  Well, 
what  now?" 

Sweetwater  was  whispering  in  his  ear. 

"The  child?  Do  I  remember  that  the  father  sug 
gested  she  should  be  put  to  bed  undressed?  Oh,  I 
cannot  have  you  disturb  the  child.  Used  as  I  am  to 
the  subterfuges  of  criminals  I  find  it  impossible  to  be 
lieve  that  a  father  could  make  use  of  his  child  as  a 
medium  for  his  own  safety." 

"Or  Miss  Meredith?"  the  insidious  whisperer  went 
on. 

"Or  Miss  Meredith.  She  may  have  the  bottle  on 
her  own  person,  but  she  would  never  pass  it  over  to 
the  child.  No,  no!  curb  your  extravagances  and 
confine  your  attention  to  Mr.  Outhwaite,  who  is  kind 
enough  to  allow  us  to  inspect  his  pockets " 


94  THE   SHADOW 

Here  the  curtain  at  the  drawing-room  door  was  dis 
turbed  and  a  pallid  face  looked  forth. 

"I  pray  you,"  came  in  entreaty  from  Hope's  set 
lips,  "spare  this  stranger,  whose  only  crime  has  been 
to  show  kindness  to  a  man  he  did  not  know,  in  an  ex 
tremity  he  did  not  understand.  Search  me;  search 
Claire;  but  do  not  subject  this  gentleman  to  an  act 
so  injurious.  I  swear  that  the  phial  is  not  on  him! 
I  swear " 

She  hardly  knew  what  she  was  saying.  The 
heaped-up  excitements  of  the  last  two  hours  were  fast 
unsettling  her  reason. 

She  held  out  her  hands  imploringly.  "I  don't 
know  why  I  care  so  much,"  she  murmured  in  fresh 
expostulation,  "but  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  bear  it." 

From  that  moment  I  loved  her,  though  I  knew  this 
interposition  in  my  behalf  sprang  from  her  womanly 
instinct  rather  than  from  the  spontaneous  impulse 
of  a  freshly  awakened  heart.  I  must  have  shown 
how  deeply  I  was  moved,  for  the  coroner  looked  dis 
tressed,  though  he  gave  no  signs  of  modifying  his  in 
tention,  and  I  was  beginning  to  empty  my  pockets 
before  his  eyes,  when  Sweetwater's  expressive  coun 
tenance  showed  a  sudden  change,  and  he  rushed  again 
to  the  rear.  Here  he  stood  a  moment  before  the  din 
ing-room  door,  striking  his  forehead  in  wrathful  in 
decision;  then  he  disappeared  within,  only  to  shout 
aloud  in  another  instant: 

"Fool!  fool!  And  I  noticed  when  I  first  came  in 
that  the  clock  had  stopped.  See!  see!  " 

We  were  at  his  side  in  an  instant.  He  was  stand 
ing  by  the  mantelpiece,  with  the  heavy  French  clock 


THE    CLOCK   THAT  HAD  RUN  DOWN          95 

tilted  up  before  our  eyes.  Under  it,  tucked  away  in 
the  space  allowed  to  the  pendulum,  we  saw  a  small 
homoeopathic  bottle.  There  was  one  drop  of  liquid 
at  the  bottom,  which  even  before  Mr.  Gryce  lifted  the 
bottle  to  his  nose  we  recognised  by  its  smell  to  be 
prussic  acid. 

The  phial  which  had  held  the  deadly  dose  was 
found. 


X 


UNDER  Sweetwater's  careful  guidance,  the  clock 
fell  slowly  back  into  place.  It  was  one  of  those 
solid  time-pieces  which  seem  to  form  part  of  the  shelf 
on  which  they  stand.  When  it  was  again  quite  level, 
he  pointed  to  its  face.  The  hands  stood  at  half-past 
nine,  just  ten  minutes  previous  to  the  time  of  my 
entering  the  house. 

"At  what  hour  did  Mr.  Leighton  Gillespie  go  out 
to-night?"  he  asked. 

No  one  answered. 

"Before  half-past  nine  or  after  it?"  urged  the  cor 
oner,  consulting  the  faces  about  him  for  the  answer 
he  probably  had  no  expectation  of  receiving  from  any 
one's  lips. 

"  Leighton 's  all  right,"  cried  out  a  voice  from  the 
library.  "I  hate  his  puritanical  ways,  but  there  's 
no  harm  in  him." 

It  sounded  like  Alfred,  but  the  impression  made  by 
this  interruption  was  not  good. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  state  a  fact,"  ventured  Miss 
Meredith,  coming  impulsively  forward.  "  If  you  hope 
to  establish  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  anyone  by  the 
time  marked  by  these  hands,  you  will  make  a  mistake. 
The  clock  has  been  out  of  order  for  some  days.  Yes- 

96 


THE  PENCIL  97 

terday  it  ran  down.  I  heard  my  uncle  say  that  it 
would  have  to  go  back  to  Tiffany's  for  repairs." 

' '  Fetch  in  the  butler  or  whoever  has  charge  of  this 
room,"  ordered  Dr.  Frisbie.  "Let  none  of  you  at 
tempt  to  speak  while  he  is  present.  I  wish  to  inter 
rogate  him  myself  and  will  have  no  interruptions." 

We  all  drew  back,  and  silence  reigned  in  the  spa 
cious  apartment  which,  lit  up  as  for  a  dinner  party, 
was  yet  in  such  a  state  of  disorder  that  the  orderly  old 
butler  groaned  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  heaped-up 
rugs,  the  overturned  chairs,  and  the  great  table  stacked 
with  fine  china  and  cut-glass  taken  from  the  buffet 
and  closets. 

"Oh,  what  shall  I  do  here? "  he  grumbled.  "  What 
would  master " 

He  did  not  finish ;  but  we  all  understood  him.  The 
coroner  pointed  to  the  clock. 

"  When  was  this  wound  last? " 

The  old  man  stared  at  the  time-piece,  mumbled, 
and  shook  his  head.  Then  his  eyes  fell  on  Miss 
Meredith. 

"I  don't  remember,"  he  protested.  "It  has  not 
been  running  for  days;  has  it,  Miss?  I  have  had  to 
use  my  watch  in  order  to  be  on  time  with  the  meals. 
Why  do  you  ask,  sir?" 

He  was  not  answered.  This  repeated  closing  up  of 
every  avenue  of  inquiry  was  beginning  to  tell  upon 
the  police. 

"  Mr.  Gillespie  looked  very  sober,  very  sober  indeed, 
when  he  found  he  had  to  drink  his  wine  alone,"  con 
tinued  the  butler,  with  a  melancholy  emphasis  calcu 
lated  to  draw  our  attention  back  to  the  scene  which 

7 


98  THE   SHADOW 

had  manifestly  made  such  an  impression  upon  him. 
"He  lifted  up  his  glass  and  held  it  out  a  long  while 
before  he  drank  it.  I  think  he  looked  at  each  one  of 
the  young  gentlemen  in  turn,  but  I  did  n't  care  to 
watch  him  too  closely,  for  there  was  something  solemn 
about  him  which  made  me  feel  queer,  living  so  long 
as  I  have  in  the  family  and  with  every  one  of  these 
young  gentlemen  babies  in  arms  when  I  came  here. 
He  drank  it  finally,  standing.  But  there  was  no 
harm  in  that  glass,  sirs,  for  I  finished  the  bottle  my 
self  afterwards,  and  I  am  well,  as  you  see.  More  's  the 
pity!" 

"  Shut  up ! "  shouted  an  angry  voice  from  across  the 

hall.  "You  are  making  a  mess  of  the  whole 

affair  with  your  confounded  drivel." 

The  coroner  motioned  the  butler  away. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  house  had  now  become 
oppressive  even  to  me,  and  for  the  first  time  I  ex 
perienced  a  desire  to  be  quit  of  it,  and  would  cer 
tainly  have  made  some  movement  towards  departure 
had  it  not  been  for  my  dread  of  leaving  Miss  Meredith 
alone  with  her  own  thoughts. 

Meanwhile  the  coroner  was  issuing  his  orders. 

"  Dakin,  request  the  gentlemen  upstairs  to  come 
down  again  for  a  few  minutes.  Dr.  Bennett,  the 
body  of  your  patient  can  now  be  moved." 

"  Ah,  here  we  are  again,"  he  exclaimed,  as  Leighton 
was  heard  descending  the  stairs. 

"Now,  if  the  two  other  sons  of  the  deceased  will 
attend  to  my  words  for  a  moment  I  will  state  that 
under  the  existing  circumstances  I  feel  it  my  duty 
to  call  a  jury  and  hold  an  inquest  over  Mr.  Gillespie's 


THE  PENCIL  99 

remains.  The  phial  smelling  of  prussic  acid  having 
been  found  in  the  dining-room,  I  shall  only  require 
restraint  put  upon  the  movements  of  the  two  sons  of 
Mr.  Gillespie  who  are  known  to  have  entered  this 
room  during  the  hour  when  this  fatal  dose  was  ad 
ministered.  The  one  called  Alfred,  having  remained 
above,  is  for  the  present  free  from  suspicion.  I  would 
be  glad  to  show  the  same  consideration  to  the  others ; 
but  the  facts  demand  a  severity  which  I  hope  future 
developments  will  allow  us  to  confine  to  the  guilty 
party.  Mr.  Outhwaite,  I  must  request  you  to  hold 
yourself  subject  to  my  summons.  Miss  Meredith,  I 
advise  you  to  hold  no  communication  with  your 
cousins  till  this  matter  shows  a  clearer  aspect." 

He  was  moving  off,  when  Alfred,  who  had  been 
shifting  uneasily  under  George's  eye,  stepped  up  to 
him  and  said: 

"I  don't  want  any  discrimination  made  between 
my  brothers  and  myself.  I  may  be  quite  conscious 
of  my  own  innocence,  but  I  cannot  accept  any  show 
of  favours  founded  on  a  misconception.  If  George 
and  Leighton  are  to  be  subjected  to  surveillance  on 
account  of  entering  the  dining-room  this  evening, 
then  I  want  to  be  put  under  surveillance  too.  For  I 
was  in  that  room  as  well  as  they,  searching  for  a  small 
gold  pencil  which  I  had  dropped  from  my  pocket  at 
dinner-time." 

This  acknowledgment  made  under  such  circum 
stances  and  against  such  odds  was  calculated  to  enlist 
sympathy,  and  my  heart  warmed  towards  the  man 
who  in  the  heat  of  anger  could  strike  a  brother  to  the 
ground,  but  scorned  at  a  less  angry  moment  to  take 


TOO  THE   SHADOW 

refuge  in  a  misunderstanding  which  left  that  brother 
at  a  disadvantage. 

But  the  imperturbability  of  the  elderly  detective, 
who  at  that  moment  found  something  to  interest  him 
in  the  chasing  on  a  Chinese  gong  hanging  from  a 
bracket  in  the  hall,  warned  me  not  to  be  too  quick 
with  my  sympathies.  Kindly  as  he  beamed  upon 
this  favoured  object  of  his  attention,  I  saw  that  he 
took  little  stock  in  the  generous  attitude  assumed  by 
Mr.  Gillespie's  youngest  son;  and  my  attention  being 
attracted  to  his  movements,  I  was  happily  glancing 
his  way  when  he  suddenly  approached  Alfred  with 
what  looked  like  an  empty  tumbler  in  his  hand. 

"  Is  this  the  article  you  refer  to?"  he  asked. 

And  then  we  saw  that  the  tumbler  was  not  empty, 
—that  it  held  a  small  object  standing  upright  in  it, 
and  that  this  object  was  a  gold  pencil." 

"Yes,  that  is  my  pencil,"  Alfred  acknowledged. 
"But " 

"Oh,  I  am  accountable  for  putting  it  into  the 
tumbler,"  the  old  man  admitted.  "The  tumbler  was 
a  clean  one,  Mr.  Gillespie.  I  assure  you  I  examined 
it  closely  before  making  it  a  receptacle  for  this  pencil. 
But  the  pencil  itself — Let  me  ask  you  to  put  your 
nose  to  it,  Mr.  Gillespie." 

It  was  a  suggestion  capable  of  but  one  interpreta 
tion.  Alfred  started  back,  his  eyes  staring,  his 
features  convulsed.  Then  he  bent  impulsively  for 
ward  and  put  his  nose  to  the  object  Mr.  Gryce  held 
out.  With  what  result  was  evident  from  the  sudden 
damp  which  broke  out  on  his  forehead. 


XI 

SOMETHING    TO    THINK    ABOUT 

FATALITY ! "  exclaimed  Alfred.  And,  raising  his 
head,  he  strode  impetuously  towards  Miss 
Meredith.  "You  have  enjoined  a  confession  of  guilt 
and  forbidden  us  to  assert  our  innocence,"  he  cried. 
"But  I  shall  assert  mine  now  and  always,  whatever 
happens  and  whoever  suffers.  I  should  not  be 
worthy  of  the  happiness  I  aim  at,  if  I  did  not  declare 
my  guiltlessness  in  the  face  of  facts  which  seem  to 
militate  against  me." 

"I  believe  you — "  she  began,  her  hand  trembling 
towards  his.  But  the  confiding  impulse  was  stayed — 
by  what  thought?  by  what  dread?  and  her  hand  fell 
and  her  lips  closed  before  she  had  completed  the 
sentence. 

"I  am  innocent,"  he  repeated,  drawing  himself  up 
in  proud  assertion,  nobly  borne  out  by  the  clear  re 
gard  of  the  eye  which  now  turned  alternately  on 
George  and  Leighton,  who  were  standing  upon  either 
side  of  him. 

"What  is  the  use  of  repeating  a  phrase  you  cannot 
back  up  with  proof?"  called  out  George,  who  was 
still  gnawing  his  own  special  grievance.  "I  am  as 
innocent  as  you  are,  but  I  scorn  to  take  advantage  of 
each  and  every  opportunity  to  assert  it." 


102  THE   SHADOW 

Leighton  neither  spoke  nor  moved.  The  melan 
choly  in  which  he  was  now  completely  lost  repelled 
all  attempt  to  break  it.  Nor  did  this  expression  of 
complete  wretchedness  alter  during  the  hubbub  that 
followed.  When  it  did — but  I  must  make  clear  the 
circumstances  of  this  change.  I  was  engaged  in  mak 
ing  my  adieux  to  Miss  Meredith,  when  Sweet  water, 
after  a  marked  effort  to  meet  my  eye,  motioned  me 
to  join  him  in  the  doorway  of  the  den  where  Mr. 
Gillespie's  body  still  lay.  Not  enjoying  the  sum 
mons,  yet  feeling  it  impossible  to  slight  them,  I  ven 
tured,  for  the  last  time,  or  so  I  hoped,  down  the  hall. 

The  young  detective  was  looking  into  the  room 
which  had  already  played  so  conspicuous  a  part  in  the 
events  of  the  night,  and  as  I  drew  up  beside  him,  I 
perceived  that  his  eyes  were  fixed  not  upon  the  out 
stretched  figure  of  its  late  occupant,  but  on  the  face 
and  form  of  Leighton  Gillespie,  who  was  bending 
above  it. 

For  all  the  humiliation  I  felt  at  thus  sharing  the 
professional  surveillance  entered  into  by  this  able 
young  detective,  I  could  not  resist  following  his 
glance,  which  seemed  to  find  something  remarkable  in 
the  attitude  or  expression  of  the  man  before  me. 

The  result  was  a  similar  interest  on  my  part  and  a 
score  of  new  surmises.  The  melancholy  which  up  till 
now  had  been  the  predominating  characteristic  of 
this  inscrutable  face  had  yielded  to  what  could  not 
be  called  a  smile  and  yet  was  strangely  like  one ;  and 
this  smile  or  shadow  of  a  smile,  had  in  it  just  that 
tinge  of  sarcasm  which  made  it  the  one  look  of  all 
others  least  to  be  expected  from  a  son  who  in  common 


SOMETHING    TO    THINK  ABOUT  1 03 

with  his  brothers  laboured  under  a  suspicion  of  hav 
ing  been  the  direct  cause  of  his  father's  death. 

With  the  memory  of  it  fixed  indelibly  in  my  mind, 
I  moved  away,  and  in  another  moment  was  quit  of 
the  house  in  which  I  had  spent  four  hours  of  extra 
ordinary  suspense  and  exciting  adventure.  As  I 
passed  down  the  stoop,  I  met  a  young  man  coming 
up.  He  was  the  first  of  the  army  of  reporters  destined 
to  besiege  that  house  before  daybreak. 


XII 

GOSSIP 

NEXT  morning  I  routed  up  Sam  Underbill  at  an 
early  hour.  Sam  Underbill  is  my  special 
friend ;  he  is  also  my  nearest  neighbour,  his  apartment 
being  directly  under  my  own. 

He  is  a  lazy  chap  and  I  found  him  abed,  and  none 
too  well  pleased  at  being  disturbed. 

"What  the  dickens  brings  you  here  at  this  un 
earthly  hour?"  was  the  amiable  greeting  I  received. 

I  waited  till  he  had  made  himself  comfortable  again; 
then  I  boldly  stated: 

"You  arc  a  club-man,  Sam,  and  consequently  well 
up  in  the  so-called  gossip  of  the  day.  What  can  you 
tell  me  about  the  Gillespies  ? — the  three  young  men  I 
mean,  sons  of  Archibald  Gillespie." 

"George,  Alfred,  and  Leighton?  What  possible 
interest  can  you  have  in  them?  Rich  fellows,  spend 
thrifts,  every  one  of  them.  What  have  they  been  up 
to  that  you  should  rout  me  up  at  this  hour " 

For  reply  I  opened  out  the  morning  paper  which 
I  had  been  careful  to  bring  along. 

"  See  here ! "  I  cried :  "  '  Archibald  Gillespie,  the  well- 
known  broker,  died  suddenly  last  night,  from  the  effects 
of  some  drug  mysteriously  administered.' "  I  was  read 
ing  rapidly,  anxious  to  see  what  kind  of  a  story  the 
reporters  had  made  of  it.  " '  He  had  been  ill  for  some 

104 


GOSSIP  IO5 

weeks  back,  but  seemed  perfectly  restored  up  to  half- 
past  nine  o'clock  last  evening,  when  he  fell  and  died 
without  warning,  in  the  small  room  known  as  his  den. 
A  bottle  of  chloral  was  found  on  the  mantel  but  there 
is  no  proof  that  he  took  any  of  it.  Indeed,  his  symp 
toms  were  such  that  the  action  of  a  much  more  violent 
drug  is  suspected.  His  little  grandchild  was  a  witness 
to  his  last  moments.'  George,  Leighton,  and  Alfred 
are  now  more  than  rich  fellows.  They  are  rich  men," 
I  suggested,  relieved  that  my  name  had  not  ap 
peared  in  the  headlines. 

"They  need  to  be,"  was  the  short  reply.  "One  of 
them  at  least  stood  in  great  need  of  money." 

"  Which?"  I  asked,  with  an  odd  sensation  of  chok 
ing  in  my  throat. 

"George.  He  's  about  played  out,  as  I  take  it.  To 
my  certain  knowledge  he  has  lost  in  unfortunate  bets 
thirty  thousand  dollars  since  summer  set  in.  He 
has  a  mania  for  betting  and  card-playing,  and  as  his 
father  had  little  patience  with  vices  of  this  nature, 
their  relations  of  late  have  been  more  than  strained. 
But  he  's  a  mighty  big-hearted  fellow  for  all  that,  and 
a  great  favourite  with  the  men  who  don't  play  with 
him.  I  heard  he  was  going  to  be  married.  That  and 
this  sudden  windfall  may  set  him  straight  again. 
He  's  a  handsome  fellow;  did  you  ever  meet  him?" 

"Once,"  I  acknowledged.  Then  with  an  effort  of 
which  I  was  more  or  less  ashamed,  I  asked  the  name 
of  the  girl  who  was  willing  to  take  such  a  well-known 
spendthrift  for  a  husband. 

Sam  did  not  seem  to  be  as  well  posted  on  this  point 
as  on  some  others. 


106  THE   SHADOW 

"I  have  heard  her  name,"  he  admitted.  "Some 
cousin,  who  lives  in  the  same  house  with  him.  The 
old  gentleman  fancied  her  so  much,  he  promised  to 
give  a  big  fortune  to  the  son  who  married  her.  It 
seems  that  George  is  likely  to  be  the  lucky  one. 
Strange,  what  odd  things  come  up  in  families." 

"There  is  another  brother — Alfred,  I  think  they 
call  him." 

"  Oh,  Alph !  He  's  a  deuced  handsome  chap,  too,  but 
not  such  a  universal  favourite  as  George.  More 
moral  though.  I  think  his  sole  vice  is  an  inordinate 
love  of  doing  nothing.  I  have  known  him  to  lie  out 
half  the  night  on  a  club-divan,  saying  nothing,  doing 
nothing,  not  even  smoking.  I  have  sometimes  won 
dered  if  he  ate  opium  on  the  sly.  Life  would  be 
stupid  as  he  spends  it,  if  dreams  did  not  take  the 
place  of  the  pleasant  realities  he  scorns." 

I  must  have  shown  my  amazement.  This  was  not 
the  Alfred  Gillespie  I  had  met  the  night  before. 

"I  have  heard  that  everything  was  not  quite 
smooth  with  him.  I  know  I  have  n't  seen  him  around 
lately,  crushing  pillows  and  making  us  all  look  vulgar 
in  contrast  to  his  calm  and  almost  insulting  im 
passibility.  I  wonder  what  he  will  do  with  the  three 
or  four  millions  which  will  fall  to  his  share." 

"Marry,"  I  suggested,  fillipping  a  fly  from  my  coat- 
sleeve. 

"He?  Alph?  I  don't  believe  he  could  hold  himself 
erect  long  enough  to  go  through  the  ceremony.  Be 
sides,  it  would  be  such  a  bore.  That 's  my  idea  of 
Alph." 

It  was  not  mine.     Either  he  had  greatly  changed, 


GOSSIP  lO/ 

or  Sam  Underbill's  knowledge  of  him  was  of  the  most 
superficial  character.  As  I  wavered  between  these 
two  conclusions  I  began  to  experience  a  vague  sensa 
tion  of  dread.  If  love  could  effect  such  a  transfor 
mation  in  so  unlikely  a  subject  as  the  man  we  were 
discussing,  what  might  it  not  effect  in  an  ardent  na 
ture  like  my  own? 

I  hastened  to  change  the  subject. 

"The  third  brother  is  already  married,  I  believe." 

"  Leighton  ?  Oh,  he  's  a  widower;  has  been  a  wid 
ower  for  years.  He  was  unfortunate  in  the  marriage 
he  made.  After  the  first  year  no  one  ever  saw 
young  Mrs.  Gillespie  in  public.  I  don't  think  the 
old  gentleman  ever  forgave  him  that  match." 

"  What  was  the  trouble  ?  He  seems  to  have  a  dear 
little  girl.  I  saw  her  when  I  saw  her  uncle." 

"Oh,  the  child.  She  's  well  enough,  but  the  mother 
was  —  well,  we  will  be  charitable  and  say  erratic. 
Common  stock,  I  've  heard.  No  mate  at  all  for  a 
man  like  him.  Not  that  he  's  any  too  good  either 
for  all  his  hypocritical  ways.  I  have  no  use  for 
Leighton.  I  cannot  abide  so-called  philanthropic 
men  whose  noses  are  always  in  the  gutter.  He  's  a 
sneak,  is  Leighton,  and  so  inconsistent.  One  day 
you  hear  of  him  presiding  at  some  charity  meeting ; 
the  next  night  you  find  him  behind  the  scenes  at  a 
variety  theatre.  And  as  for  money — not  one  of  Mr. 
Gillespie's  sons  spends  so  much.  He  has  just  drained 
the  old  man's  purse,  or  so  I  've  heard;  and  when  asked 
to  give  an  account  of  himself  mentions  his  charities 
and  many  schemes  of  benevolence — as  if  the  old  man 
himself  did  n't  spend  thousands  in  just  such  lines." 


108  THE   SHADOW 

"He  does  n't  look  like  a  prig,"  I  ventured. 

"Oh,  he  looks  well  enough.  But  there  's  something 
wrong  about  the  man.  His  own  folks  acknowledge 
it;  something  shameful,  furtive;  something  which 
will  not  bear  the  light.  None  of  those  boys  are  chips 
of  the  old  block.  Let  's  see  the  paper.  What  are 
you  holding  it  off  for?  Anything  more  about  Mr. 
Gillespie's  death?  Do  they  call  it  suicide?  That 
would  be  a  sad  ending  to  such  a  successful  life." 

"One  question  first.  Was  Mr.  Gillespie  a  good 
man?" 

"  He  was  rich;  yet  had  few  if  any  calumniators." 

I  handed  him  the  paper.  There  were  some  startling 
lines  below  those  I  had  read  out  so  glibly. 

"They  do  not  stop  at  suicide,"  I  remarked;  "mur 
der  is  suggested.  The  drug  was  not  administered  by 
himself." 

"Oh!"  protested  Sam,  running  his  eye  over  the 
lines  that  were  destined  to  startle  all  New  York  that 
morning.  "This  won't  do!  None  of  those  boys  are 
bad  enough  for  that,  not  even  Leighton." 

"You  dislike  Leighton,"  I  remarked. 

He  did  not  reply ;  he  had  just  come  upon  my  name 
in  the  article  he  was  reading. 

"Look  here!"  he  cried,  "you  're  a  close  one.  How 
came  you  to  be  mixed  up  with  the  affair?  I  see  your 
name  here." 

"Read!" 

He  complied  with  an  eagerness  which  I  suppose  but 
faintly  mirrored  that  of  half  the  Tribune's  readers 
that  morning.  What  he  read,  I  leave  to  your  imagi 
nation,  merely  premising  that  no  new  facts  had  come 


GOSSIP  IO9 

to  light  since  my  departure  from  the  house  and  the 
printing  of  the  paper.  When  he  had  finished,  he  be 
stowed  upon  me  a  long  and  scrutinising  look.  "This 
knocks  me  out,"  said  he,  with  more  force  than 
elegance.  "I  would  never  have  believed  it,  never, 
of  any  of  these  men."  Then  with  a  sudden  change 
quite  characteristic,  he  ejaculated,  "It  was  a  rum 
chance  for  you,  Arthur.  How  did  you  like  it?" 

I  refused  to  discuss  this  side  of  the  question.  I 
was  afraid  of  disclosing  what  had  become  the  inner 
most  secret  of  my  heart. 

He  did  not  notice  my  reticence — this,  too,  was  like 
him — but  remarked  with  visible  reluctance: 

"The  weight  of  evidence  seems  to  be  against  Alph. 
Poor  Alph !  So  this  is  the  result  of  those  long,  un 
broken  hours  of  silent  dreaming !  I  shall  never  trust 
a  lazy  man  again.  When  they  do  bestir  them 
selves " 

"  He  has  not  been  arrested  yet,"  I  interjected  dryly. 
"Till  the  police  show  absolute  belief  in  his  guilt,  I  for 
one  shall  hold  my  tongue." 

"Poor  Alph!"  was  all  the  reply  I  received. 


112  THE   SHADOW 

veil  to  imagine  the  expression  of  anxiety  and  distress 
she  thus  concealed  from  the  crowd.  George,  who 
had  resumed  his  usual  manner,  sat,  conspicuous 
in  height  and  good  looks,  among  a  group  of  witnesses, 
some  of  whom  I  knew  and  some  not.  Dr.  Bennett 
sat  at  my  side,  and  had  so  little  to  say  that  I  did  not 
attempt  to  disturb  him,  having  respect  for  the  grief 
with  which  he  regarded  the  untimely  end  of  his  life 
long  friend  and  patient. 

The  first  witness  was  myself. 

As  my  testimony  contained  nothing  which  has  not 
been  already  very  fully  related  in  these  pages,  I  will 
pass  over  this  portion  of  the  scene,  with  the  single 
remark  that  in  the  course  of  my  whole  examination, 
which  was  a  lengthy  and  exhaustive  one,  I  allowed 
no  expression  to  escape  me  likely  to  prejudice  the 
minds  of  those  about  me  against  any  one  of  Mr. 
Gillespie's  sons.  For  it  was  apparent,  before  I  had 
been  upon  the  stand  ten  minutes,  that  an  effort  was 
being  made  to  fix  the  crime  on  Alfred;  and  what 
surety  could  I  have  that  this  result  would  not  plunge 
a  barbed  arrow  into  the  breast  of  her  about  whom  my 
fancy  had  drawn  its  magic  circle?  As  I  sat  down,  I 
glanced  her  way,  and  it  seemed  to  me  there  was  mean 
ing  in  the  slight  acknowledgment  she  made  me  with 
her  ungloved  hand.  But  what  meaning? 

The  inquiry  thus  being  opened,  and  curiosity  roused 
as  to  the  motive  which  led  Mr.  Gillespie  to  summon 
a  stranger  to  his  side  at  a  moment  so  vital  and  under 
circumstances  seemingly  calling  for  the  ministrations 
of  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  him,  various  experts 
and  physicians  were  called  to  prove  that  his  death 


IN  DIG  A  TIONS  1 1 3 

had  not  been  caused  by  disease,  but  by  the  action  of 
prussic  acid  on  a  sufficiently  healthy  system.  With 
the  establishment  of  this  fact  the  morning's  inquiry 
closed. 

As  Miss  Meredith  was  likely  to  be  the  first  witness 
called  at  the  afternoon  session,  I  felt  it  my  duty  as 
her  lawyer  to  approach  her  at  this  time  with  the  fol 
lowing  question,  quite  customary  under  the  circum 
stances  : 

"Miss  Meredith,"  said  I,  "you  will  probably  soon 
be  subjected  to  a  searching  inquiry  by  the  coroner. 
May  I  ask  if  there  is  any  special  point  or  topic  con 
cerning  which  you  would  prefer  to  keep  silence?  If 
so,  I  can  insist  upon  your  privilege." 

The  look  of  mingled  surprise  and  indignation  with 
which  she  regarded  me  was  a  sufficient  answer  in  it 
self.  Yet  she  chose  to  say,  and  say  coldly,  after  a 
moment  of  reflection : 

"  I  have  nothing  to  conceal.  He  can  ask  no  quest 
ion  I  shall  not  be  perfectly  willing  to  answer. ' ' 

Abashed  by  the  construction  she  had  put  upon  my 
words,  as  well  as  greatly  hurt  by  her  manner,  I 
bowed  and  drew  off.  Evidently  she  had  felt  her 
candour  impugned  and  her  innocence  questioned,  and, 
in  her  ignorance  of  legal  proceedings,  thought  she 
had  only  to  speak  the  truth  to  sustain  herself  in  my 
eyes  and  in  those  of  the  crowd  assembled  to  hear  her. 

This  sort  of  self-confidence  is  common  in  witnesses, 
especially  in  such  as  are  more  conscious  of  their 
integrity  than  of  the  pitfalls  underlying  the  simplest  in 
quiry  ;  and  however  much  I  might  deplore  her  short 
sightedness  and  wish  that  she  had  better  understood 


114  THE   SHADOW 

both  myself  and  her  own  position,  it  was  plain  that, 
in  the  light  of  what  had  just  passed  between  us,  all 
interference  on  my  part  would  be  regarded  by  her 
as  an  insult,  and  that  I  would  be  expected  to  keep 
silence  under  all  circumstances,  let  the  consequences 
be  what  they  would. 

It  was  an  outlook  far  from  agreeable  either  for  the 
lawyer  or  lover,  and  the  recess  which  now  ensued  was 
passed  by  me  in  a  state  of  dread  of  which  she  in  her 
inexperience  had  little  idea. 

Upon  the  reseating  of  the  jury,  her  name,  just  as  I 
had  anticipated,  was  the  first  one  called. 

The  emotions  with  which  I  saw  her  rise  and  throw 
aside  her  veil  under  the  concentrated  gaze  of  the  un 
sympathetic  crowd  convened  to  hear  her  testimony, 
first  revealed  to  me  the  absoluteness  of  her  hold  upon 
me;  and  when  I  heard  the  buzz  of  admiration  which 
followed  the  disclosure  of  her  features,  I  was  conscious 
of  colouring  so  deeply  that  I  feared  my  secret  would 
become  the  common  property  of  the  crowd.  But  the 
spell  created  by  her  beauty  still  held,  and  all  regards 
remained  fixed  upon  her  countenance,  now  eloquent 
with  feelings  which  for  the  moment  were  shared  by 
all  who  looked  upon  her. 

Her  voice  when  she  spoke  deepened  the  effect  of 
her  presence.  It  was  of  that  fine  and  resonant  quality 
which  awakens  an  echo  in  all  sensitive  hearts  and 
carries  conviction  with  it  even  to  the  most  callous 
and  prejudiced.  It  lost  some  of  its  power  perhaps 
as  the  ear  became  accustomed  to  it ;  but  to  the  very 
end  of  her  testimony,  I  noted  here  and  there  persons 
who  looked  up  every  time  she  spoke,  as  if  some  inner 


IN DIC A  TIONS  1 1 5 

chord  responded  to  her  tones  —  tones  which,  more 
than  her  face,  conveyed  the  impression  of  a  nature 
exceedingly  deep  and  exquisitely  sensitive. 

She,  meantime,  failed  to  realise  the  effect  which 
her  appearance  had  produced.  She  had  been  quest 
ioned,  and  was  striving  earnestly  and  conscientiously 
to  do  justice  to  her  oath,  and  relate  as  circumstantially 
as  possible  what  she  knew  of  her  uncle's  sudden  death. 

This  is  what  I  heard  her  say: 

"  I  was  my  uncle's  typewriter.  I  assisted  him 
often  with  his  correspondence  and  was  accustomed 
to  go  in  and  out  of  his  study  as  if  it  were  my  own 
room.  On  this  night,  I  had  written  several  letters 
for  him,  and  being  tired  had  gone  up-stairs  for  a  little 
rest.  But  I  was  too  anxious  to  be  of  assistance  to 
him — his  mail  that  evening  was  unusually  large — to 
retire  without  one  more  effort  to  relieve  him;  so  I 
went  down  again  a  little  after  ten.  I  had  heard  steps 
in  the  hall  a  few  minutes  before,  and  little  Claire's 
voice  somewhere  about  the  house,  but  I  did  not  en 
counter  anyone  in  going  down,  perhaps  because  I 
went  by  the  way  of  the  rear  stairs,  as  I  often  do 
when  I  am  in  a  hurry.  Little,  little  did  I  imagine 
what  was  before  me.  When  I  reached  my  uncle's 
door, — but  you  know  what  a  terrible  sight  met  me. 
There  lay  my  kind — my  good " 

We  all  waited,  our  hearts  in  our  mouths,  but  in  a 
moment  more  she  choked  down  her  emotion  and  was 
ready  to  go  on. 

"He  was  dead.  I  knew  it  at  first  glance,  yet  I 
raised  no  cry.  I  could  not.  I  seemed  in  an  instant 
to  have  become  marble.  I  saw  him  lying  at  my  feet 


Il6  THE   SHADOW 

and  did  not  weep  a  tear.  I  did  not  even  touch  him. 
I  merely  staggered  to  the  table  at  the  side  of  which 
he  had  fallen,  and  mechanically,  but  with  a  stoppage 
of  my  heart's  action  which  made  the  instant  one  of 
untold  horror  to  me,  lifted  the  carriage  of  the  type 
writer  which  he  had  evidently  been  using  when  struck 
with  death,  and  looked  to  see  what  his  last  words  had 
been.  I  had  reason  for  believing  that  they  would 
convey  some  warning  to  me  or  at  least  an  explanation 
of  his  sudden  death.  And  they  did,  or  so  I  interpreted 
the  isolated  phrase  I  came  upon  at  the  end  of  the 
unfinished  letter  I  found  there.  God  knows  I  may 
have  been  mistaken  as  to  what  those  five  words 
meant,  but  I  was  so  impressed  with  the  belief  that 
they  were  added  there  for  my  personal  enlightenment 
that  I  reeled  under  the  responsibility  thus  forced  upon 
me,  and,  hardly  conscious  of  what  I  was  doing,  tore 
off,  with  almost  criminal  haste,  the  portion  containing 
these  words,  and  fled  with  them  out  of  the  sight  and 
reach  of  everyone  in  the  house.  It  was  a  mad  thing 
to  do,  and  I  speedily  regretted  the  insane  impulse 
which  had  actuated  me,  for  I  was  very  soon  discovered 
in  the  remote  spot  to  which  I  had  fled,  and  the  piece  of 
paper  was  found,  and — and — 

How  could  she  be  expected  to  go  on? 

"Have  we  that  piece  of  paper  here?"  asked  the 
coroner. 

It  was  produced,  identified,  and  passed  down  to  the 
jury. 

It  was  my  opinion  at  the  time,  and  is  still,  that  she 
told  her  story  thus  fully  in  order  to  elude  the  quest 
ions  which  any  apparent  reticence  on  her  part  would 


IN DIC A  TIONS  1 1 7 

assuredly  have  evoked.  But,  having  reached  this 
point,  it  seemed  impossible  for  her  to  go  farther. 
She  drooped,  not  under  the  eyes  of  the  crowd,  but 
under  the  fixed  gaze  of  her  three  cousins.  Had  she 
hoped  for  some  signs  of  sympathy  from  them  which 
she  failed  to  receive,  or,  at  least  a  partial  recognition, 
on  their  part,  of  the  suffering  she  was  undergoing  in 
the  cause  of  truth  and  justice?  If  so,  no  such  recog 
nition  came.  George's  fine  face  showed  anger  and 
anger  only;  Leighton's,  a  cold  impassibility  which 
might  have  passed  for  the  stolidity  of  an  utterly  un 
feeling  man  if  his  hands  had  not  betrayed  his  inner 
restlessness  and  torment;  while  Alfred's  flashing  eye 
and  set  lips  made  plain  the  fact  that  his  emotions 
clung  to  his  own  position  rather  than  to  hers — as  was 
natural,  perhaps,  with  that  slip  of  paper  going  the 
rounds  of  the  jury,  and  calling  up  from  that  respect 
able  body  startled,  uneasy,  or  menacing  looks,  ac 
cording  to  the  nature  of  the  man  examining  it. 

You  remember  that  slip;  a  business  communica 
tion  broken  into  by  these  totally  irrelevant  words, 
"one  of  my  sons  He".  Is  it  any  wonder  that  these 
twelve  commonplace  men  keenly  felt  their  position 
in  face  of  what  looked  like  a  direct  accusation  from 
the  father's  hand? 

Yet  as  these  five  words,  simple  in  themselves  and 
gaining  meaning  only  from  the  effort  which  this  young 
girl  had  made  to  suppress  them,  were  capable  of  being 
construed  in  a  hundred  different  ways,  the  faces  which 
at  first  blush  mirrored  but  one  thought  gradually 
assumed  a  non-committal  aspect,  which  would  have 
been  more  encouraging  to  the  men  thus  compromised, 


Il8  THE  SHADOW 

if  the  facts  still  to  be  brought  out  in  explanation  of 
Miss  Meredith's  conduct  towards  them  had  not  been 
of  so  damaging  a  character. 

Hope,  who  surmised,  if  she  did  not  know,  the  con 
tents  of  the  letter  she  now  heard  rustling  in  the  cor 
oner's  hand,  awaited  his  next  question  with  evident 
perturbation.  Alfred,  who  may  have  hoped  that  this 
letter  would  not  appear  so  early  in  the  examination, 
forgot  himself  for  a  moment  and  cast  a  look  at  his 
brothers,  which  they  took  pains  to  ignore,  perhaps 
because  of  the  effort  it  cost  them  to  preserve  their 
own  countenances  in  face  of  the  impending  ordeal. 

I  was  witness  both  to  this  appeal  and  its  rebuff,  but 
to  all  appearance  Dr.  Frisbie  saw  neither.  He  was 
deciding  with  what  form  of  words  to  introduce  his 
new  subject. 

"Miss  Meredith,"  he  said  at  last,  "you  will  now 
take  this  letter  in  your  own  hand.  Have  you  ever 
seen  it  before?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was  a  letter  which  was  entrusted  to  me 
by  my  uncle,  and  which  I  was  told  to  preserve  in 
secrecy  so  long  as  he  retained  his  health  and  life." 

"It  is  addressed,  as  all  may  see:  To  my  three  sons, 
George,  Leighton,  and  Alfred  Gillespie.  Miss  Mere 
dith,  did  you  understand  by  these  words  that  the  en 
closed  was  intended  equally  for  your  three  cousins?" 

"Yes,  sir.  My  uncle  Archibald  told  me  so.  He 
expressly  said,  in  giving  it  into  my  charge,  that  in  the 
event  of  his  sudden  or  unexplainable  death,  his  three 
sons  were  to  read  this  letter  together." 

"It  has  been  opened,  I  see.  Is  that  a  sign  it  has 
been  so  delivered  and  read?" 


IN DIC A  TIONS  1 1 9 

"Yes,  sir.  When  on  the  night  I  made  that  incon 
siderate  attempt  to  suppress  the  slip  of  paper  on  which 
my  uncle  had  transcribed  the  five  words  you  have 
just  shown  to  the  jury,  one  of  my  cousins  reproached 
me  with  having  drawn  erroneous  and  unwarrantable 
conclusions  from  what  was  there  written.  I  justified 
myself  by  handing  over  this  letter.  Though  I  was 
never  shown  its  contents,  I  was  well  aware  of  the  cir 
cumstances  under  which  it  was  written  and — and  I 
was  certain  it  would  prove  my  best  excuse  for  what 
would  otherwise  have  seemed  monstrous  in  one — 
who " 

She  was  too  disturbed  to  proceed. 

The  coroner  looked  at  her  kindly,  but  it  was  no 
part  of  his  duty  to  allow  any  sympathy  he  might  feel 
for  the  witness  to  interfere  with  his  endeavour  to  reach 
the  truth.  He  therefore  urged  her  to  relate  the  cir 
cumstances  to  which  she  alluded;  in  other  words,  to 
explain  how  this  letter  addressed  collectively  to  her 
three  cousins  came  to  be  written. 

She  grew  still  more  distressed. 

"Does  not  the  letter  explain  itself?"  she  remon 
strated.  "Spare  me,  I  pray.  My  uncle's  sons  have 
been  brothers  to  me.  Do  not  make  me  repeat  what 
passed  between  my  uncle  and  myself  on  that  unhappy 
morning  when  he  first  unburdened  himself  of  his  in 
tolerable  grief ." 

"I  fear  that  I  cannot  spare  you,"  replied  the  cor 
oner  ;  ' '  but  I  will  grant  you  a  short  respite  while  this 
letter,  or  such  portions  of  it  as  bear  upon  Mr.  Gilles- 
pie's  death,  is  being  read  to  the  jury.  Gentlemen,  it  is 
written  in  Mr.  Gillespie's  own  hand,  and  it  is  dated 


120  THE   SHADOW 

just  a  month  prior  to  his  unhappy  demise.  Miss 
Meredith,  you  may  sit." 

She  fell  rather  than  sank  into  the  chair  offered  her, 
and  for  a  moment  I  felt  myself  the  prey  of  a  bound 
less  indignation  as  I  witnessed  the  callousness  shown 
towards  her  by  the  three  men  who  up  to  this  time 
had  presumably  regarded  her  with  more  or  less  affec 
tion.  To  me  her  position  called  for  their  especial 
sympathy.  The  heroism  she  evinced  was  the  heroism 
of  a  loving  woman  who  sacrifices  herself,  and  what  is 
dearest  to  her,  to  her  idea  of  justice  and  law.  And 
while  such  action  may  be  easy  for  a  man,  it  is  hard 
beyond  expression  for  a  woman,  who,  as  we  know,  is 
much  more  apt  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  her  heart  than 
to  any  abstract  appeal  of  right  and  justice.  Yet 
these  same  relatives  of  hers  sat  still  and  scarcely 
looked  her  way,  though  she  glanced  repeatedly  and 
with  heartrending  appeal  in  their  direction. 

I  am  quite  ready  to  admit  that  I  was  too  prejudiced 
a  witness  to  be  just  to  these  men.  Had  I  not  myself 
been  under  the  influence  of  a  sudden  and  violent  pas 
sion,  I  would  have  seen  that  Alfred  needed  sympathy 
as  well  as  she ;  for  Alfred  was  the  man  most  menaced 
by  the  contents  of  the  letter  now  on  the  point  of  being 
read ;  and  he  knew  this  as  certainly  as  she  did. 

As  this  letter  is  better  known  to  you  than  it  was 
to  me  up  to  this  hour,  I  leave  you  to  judge  of  its  effect 
upon  the  jury  and  the  excited  crowd  of  spectators 
thronging  the  room  at  every  point.  Heads  which 
had  wagged  in  doubt  now  drooped  in  heaviest  de 
pression  ;  and  while  all  eyes  seemed  to  shrink  from 
an  attempt  to  read  the  three  white  faces  on  the  wit- 


INDICATIONS  121 

nesses'  bench,  the  attention  of  all  was  concentrated 
there,  and  it  was  with  quite  a  sense  of  shock  that  Dr. 
Frisbie's  voice  was  heard  rising  again  in  renewed  ex 
amination  of  the  young  lady  whose  precipitate  action 
had  brought  to  public  notice  this  touching  letter  of  a 
heartbroken  father. 

His  first  question  was  a  leading  one.  Had  Mr.  Gil- 
lespie  followed  up  his  former  confidences  by  any  fur 
ther  allusions  to  the  attempt  which  had  been  made 
upon  his  life? 

Her  answer  was  a  direct  negative.  Though  she 
had  detected  in  her  uncle  signs  of  great  unhappiness, 
he  had  held  no  further  conversation  with  her  on  this 
topic,  and  life  had  gone  on  as  usual  in  the  great  house. 

"  But  he  talked  of  poisons,  and  refused  to  take  any 
more  of  the  medicine  which  came  so  near  killing 
him?" 

"Uncle  Archibald  took  no  more  of  this  medicine, 
certainly.  That  is,  I  saw  no  more  of  it  in  the  house. 
But  he  never  talked  of  poisons,  that  is,  publicly  or  in 
my  presence." 

"Not  at  the  table?" 

"Not  after  that  night,  sir." 

"  He  had  before?" 

"Only  incidentally.  He  had  laughed  at  some  of 
Dr.  Bennett's  remarks,  and  once  I  heard  him  men 
tion  the  danger  of  taking  an  overdose  of  the  remedy 
that  was  doing  him  so  much  good.  It  was  while  jest 
ing  with  me  upon  my  refusal  to  allow  anyone  else  to 
portion  it  out  for  him." 

"That  was  your  duty,  then?'.' 

"Assuredly." 


122  THE   SHADOW 

"  Were  you  in  the  habit  of  preparing  his  glass  when 
alone  or  in  the  presence  of  his  sons  ? " 

"As  it  happened,  sir.  I  had  but  one  dread;  that 
of  miscounting  the  drops." 

"And  he  took  no  more  of  this  medicine  after  that 
especial  night? " 

"No,  sir.  He  asked  Dr.  Bennett  for  a  narcotic  of 
less  dangerous  properties,  and  was  given  chloral." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  remarks  made  on  this  change?" 

"None." 

"  What  became  of  the  phial  which  held  the  remain 
der  of  this  medicine  marked  ' Poison'?" 

"  I  emptied  it  out  at  my  uncle's  request." 

"You  were  your  uncle's  nurse,  then,  typewriter, 
and  friend?" 

"  He  trusted  me,  sir,  in  all  these  capacities." 

"  Did  he  trust  you  with  his  business  concerns?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  merely  wrote  letters  to  his  dicta 
tion." 

"  Did  you  know,  or  have  you  ever  heard,  the  value 
of  his  estate?" 

"I  have  never  even  asked  myself  whether  he 
counted  his  fortune  by  thousands  or  millions." 

The  dignity,  the  simplicity,  with  which  this  was 
said  made  it  an  impressive  termination  to  a  very 
painful  examination.  As  I  noted  the  effect  it  pro 
duced,  I  was  in  hopes  that  she  would  be  allowed  to 
retire  for  the  day.  But  the  coroner  had  other  views. 
With  a  hesitancy  that  more  or  less  prepared  us  for 
what  was  to  come,  he  addressed  her  again,  saying 
quietly : 

"  I  have  spared  you  a  public  reading  of  certain  por- 


INDICATIONS  123 

tions  of  your  uncle's  letter,  referring  to  yourself  and 
the  wishes  he  openly  cherished  in  your  behalf.  In 
return,  will  you  inform  me  if  you  are  engaged  to 
marry  any  one  of  these  young  men  ? " 

The  thrill,  the  start  given  to  the  witnesses'  bench  by 
this  pointed  question,  communicated  itself  to  officer 
and  spectator.  In  George's  fiery  flush  and  Alfred's 
sudden  paleness,  emotions  could  be  seen  at  work  of 
sufficient  significance  to  draw  every  eye;  though  few 
present,  I  dare  say,  ascribed  these  emotions  to  their 
rightful  sources.  To  myself,  divided  as  I  was  in  feel 
ing  between  the  anxiety  I  could  not  but  feel  as  her 
lawyer  to  see  her  parry  a  question  too  personal  not  to 
be  humiliating,  and  the  interest  with  which,  as  her 
lover,  I  awaited  a  response  which  would  solve  my  own 
doubts  and  make  clear  my  own  position,  there  was 
something  in  the  attitude  of  both  these  men  strongly 
suggestive  of  a  like  uncertainty.  Were  her  feelings, 
then,  as  much  of  a  mystery  to  them  as  they  were  to 
me?  Did  George  fear  to  hear  her  say  she  was  en 
gaged  to  Alfred,  and  Alfred  dread  to  hear  her  admit 
that  she  was  irrevocably  pledged  to  George?  If  so, 
what  a  situation  had  been  evolved  by  this  question 
publicly  put  by  a  city  functionary!  No  wonder  the 
young  girl  dropped  her  eyes  before  venturing  a  reply. 

But  the  spirit  of  self-protection,  always  greater  in 
woman  than  in  man  where  heart  secrets  are  involved, 
gave  her  strength  to  meet  this  crisis  with  a  baffling 
serenity.  Raising  her  patient  eyes,  she  replied  with 
a  sweet  composure  which  acted  like  a  tonic  upon  the 
agitated  hearts  about  her: 

"There  is  no  such  engagement.     I  have  lived  in 


124  THE   SHADOW 

their  house  like  a  sister.  Their  father  was  my  mother's 
brother." 

Another  man  than  Coroner  Frisbie  would  have  let 
her  go,  but  this  honest,  if  kindly,  official  was  strangely 
tenacious  when  he  had  a  point  to  gain.  Flushing 
himself,  for  her  look  was  directed  quite  steadily  upon 
him,  he  gravely  repeated: 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  no  words  of  love  ever 
passed  between  you  and  any  of  these  gentlemen? " 

This  was  too  much.  Expecting  to  see  her  recoil, 
possibly  break  down,  I  eagerly  looked  her  way  for  the 
permission  to  interfere,  which  she  might  now  be  ready 
to  give  me.  But  with  a  proud  lift  of  her  head  she 
showed  herself  equal  to  the  emergency,  and  her  an 
swer,  given  simply  and  with  no  attempt  at  subter 
fuge,  restored  her  at  once  to  the  dignified  position  we 
all  dreaded  to  see  her  lose. 

"  I  mean  to  say  nothing  but  the  truth.  Mr.  George 
Gillespie  has  more  than  once  honoured  me  by  making 
me  an  offer  of  his  hand.  But  I  did  not  consider  my 
self  in  a  position  to  accept  it.  " 

Dr.  Frisbie  showed  her  no  quarter. 

"And  your  cousin  Alfred?" 

"Alfred?"  Her  eyes  no  longer  met  those  of  the 
coroner  or  anyone  else  in  that  cruel  crowd.  "He," 
she  stammered  proudly,  "has  never  interfered  with 
whatever  claims  his  brother  may  have  been  supposed 
to  have  upon  my  favour." 

It  was  a  statement  to  awaken  turmoil  in  more  than 
one  of  the  uneasy  hearts  behind  her.  George  bounded 
to  his  feet,  though  he  quickly  subsided  again  into  his 
seat,  ashamed  of  this  betrayal,  or  fearful  of  the  effect 


INDICATIONS  125 

it  might  have  upon  his  brother.  Alfred,  on  the  con 
trary,  sat  still,  but  the  bitterness  visible  in  his  smile 
spoke  volumes,  and,  seeing  it,  the  whole  crowd  recog 
nised  what  had  long  been  apparent  to  myself,  that 
these  two  brothers  were  rivals  in  the  love  they  bore 
this  woman,  and  that  it  was  through  her  desire  to 
shield  the  one  she  favoured,  that  she  made  the  first 
false  move  which  had  drawn  the  attention  of  the  police 
to  the  doubtful  position  held  by  Mr.  Gillespie's  sons. 

That  her  choice  had  fallen  upon  the  man  who  had 
not  interfered  with  his  brother's  rights  seemed  only 
too  probable,  and  I  expected  the  coroner  to  force  this 
acknowledgment  from  her  lips,  but  he  grew  consid 
erate  all  at  once  and  inquired  instead  if  Mr.  Gillespie 
had  been  made  aware  of  his  elder  son's  wishes.  She 
replied  to  this  by  saying: 

"They  were  no  secret  in  the  house";  and,  with  a 
look,  begged  him  to  spare  her. 

But  this  man  was  inexorable. 

"And  did  he  approve  of  the  match?" 

"He  did." 

"  Yet  you  failed  to  engage  yourself? " 

This  she  deemed  already  answered. 

"If  the  younger  brother  had  pressed  his  suit  for 
your  hand,  do  you  think  that  under  the  circumstances 
your  uncle  would  have  sanctioned  such  rivalry? " 

This,  perhaps,  she  could  not  answer.  At  all  events 
she  was  as  silent  as  before. 

"Miss  Meredith,"  proceeded  her  tormentor,  utterly 
oblivious  or  entirely  careless  of  the  suffering  he  caused 
her,  "  do  you  know  whether  your  uncle  and  his  young 
est  son  ever  had  any  words  on  this  subject? " 


124  THE   SHADOW 

their  house  like  a  sister.  Their  father  was  my  mother's 
brother." 

Another  man  than  Coroner  Frisbie  would  have  let 
her  go,  but  this  honest,  if  kindly,  official  was  strangely 
tenacious  when  he  had  a  point  to  gain.  Flushing 
himself,  for  her  look  was  directed  quite  steadily  upon 
him,  he  gravely  repeated: 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  no  words  of  love  ever 
passed  between  you  and  any  of  these  gentlemen? " 

This  was  too  much.  Expecting  to  see  her  recoil, 
possibly  break  down,  I  eagerly  looked  her  way  for  the 
permission  to  interfere,  which  she  might  now  be  ready 
to  give  me.  But  with  a  proud  lift  of  her  head  she 
showed  herself  equal  to  the  emergency,  and  her  an 
swer,  given  simply  and  with  no  attempt  at  subter 
fuge,  restored  her  at  once  to  the  dignified  position  we 
all  dreaded  to  see  her  lose. 

"  I  mean  to  say  nothing  but  the  truth.  Mr.  George 
Gillespie  has  more  than  once  honoured  me  by  making 
me  an  offer  of  his  hand.  But  I  did  not  consider  my 
self  in  a  position  to  accept  it.  " 

Dr.  Frisbie  showed  her  no  quarter. 

"And  your  cousin  Alfred?" 

"Alfred?"  Her  eyes  no  longer  met  those  of  the 
coroner  or  anyone  else  in  that  cruel  crowd.  "He," 
she  stammered  proudly,  "has  never  interfered  with 
whatever  claims  his  brother  may  have  been  supposed 
to  have  upon  my  favour." 

It  was  a  statement  to  awaken  turmoil  in  more  than 
one  of  the  uneasy  hearts  behind  her.  George  bounded 
to  his  feet,  though  he  quickly  subsided  again  into  his 
seat,  ashamed  of  this  betrayal,  or  fearful  of  the  effect 


INDICA  TIONS  125 

it  might  have  upon  his  brother.  Alfred,  on  the  con 
trary,  sat  still,  but  the  bitterness  visible  in  his  smile 
spoke  volumes,  and,  seeing  it,  the  whole  crowd  recog 
nised  what  had  long  been  apparent  to  myself,  that 
these  two  brothers  were  rivals  in  the  love  they  bore 
this  woman,  and  that  it  was  through  her  desire  to 
shield  the  one  she  favoured,  that  she  made  the  first 
false  move  which  had  drawn  the  attention  of  the  police 
to  the  doubtful  position  held  by  Mr.  Gillespie's  sons. 

That  her  choice  had  fallen  upon  the  man  who  had 
not  interfered  with  his  brother's  rights  seemed  only 
too  probable,  and  I  expected  the  coroner  to  force  this 
acknowledgment  from  her  lips,  but  he  grew  consid 
erate  all  at  once  and  inquired  instead  if  Mr.  Gillespie 
had  been  made  aware  of  his  elder  son's  wishes.  She 
replied  to  this  by  saying: 

"They  were  no  secret  in  the  house";  and,  with  a 
look,  begged  him  to  spare  her. 

But  this  man  was  inexorable. 

"And  did  he  approve  of  the  match?" 

"He  did." 

"  Yet  you  failed  to  engage  yourself? " 

This  she  deemed  already  answered. 

"If  the  younger  brother  had  pressed  his  suit  for 
your  hand,  do  you  think  that  under  the  circumstances 
your  uncle  would  have  sanctioned  such  rivalry?" 

This,  perhaps,  she  could  not  answer.  At  all  events 
she  was  as  silent  as  before. 

"Miss  Meredith,"  proceeded  her  tormentor,  utterly 
oblivious  or  entirely  careless  of  the  suffering  he  caused 
her,  "do  you  know  whether  your  uncle  and  his  young 
est  son  ever  had  any  words  on  this  subject? " 


126  THE   SHADOW 

Her  hands  involuntarily  flew  out  in  piteous  en 
treaty. 

"Ask  this  question  of  the  only  person  who  can  an 
swer  it, "she  cried.  "I  only  know  that  I  have  been 
treated  with  great  respect  in  the  house  of  my  uncle." 

With  that,  the  proceedings  closed  for  the  day. 


XIV 

A   SUDDEN   TURN 

DR.  FRISBIE'S  point  had  been  made.  As  we 
separated  to  our  several  destinations  for  the 
night,  it  was  with  the  universally  expressed  convic 
tion  that  this  young  girl,  for  all  her  beauty  and  attrac 
tive  qualities,  had  been  an  apple  of  discord  in  her 
uncle's  house,  and  that  in  this  fact,  rather  than  in  an 
impatient  desire  to  enjoy  the  wealth  of  a  man  who 
was  never  close  with  his  sons,  the  unnatural  crime  we 
were  considering  had  originated. 

The  evidence  elicited  from  the  first  witness  called 
to  the  stand  on  the  following  morning  tended  to  sub 
stantiate  this  conclusion. 

Nellie  Stryker,  an  old  inmate  of  the  Gillespie  house, 
answered  the  coroner's  questions  with  great  reluc 
tance.  She  had  been  maid  to  Mrs.  Gillespie,  nurse  to 
all  the  children,  and  a  trusted  servant  in  the  house 
hold  ever  since  the  latter  grew  beyond  her  care.  Of 
the  attempts  made  upon  her  master's  life,  the  last  of 
which  had  been  only  too  successful,  she  knew  little 
and  that  only  by  hearsay,  but  she  was  not  quite  so 
ignorant  concerning  a  certain  conversation  which  had 
been  held  one  morning  in  Mr.  Gillespie's  room  between 
that  gentleman  and  his  youngest  son.  She  was  sitting 
at  her  needle  in  the  adjoining  dressing-closet,  and, 

127 


128  THE   SHADOW 

whether  her  presence  there  was  unsuspected  by  her 
master  or  simply  ignored,  they  both  talked  quite 
freely  and  she  heard  every  word. 

Urged  to  repeat  this  conversation,  the  good  old  soul 
showed  a  shamefaced  reluctance  which  bore  out  her 
reputation  for  honesty  and  discretion.  But  she  was 
not  allowed  to  escape  the  examination  set  for  her. 
After  repeated  questions  and  a  show  of  extreme 
patience  on  the  part  of  the  coroner,  she  admitted  that 
the  topic  discussed  was  the  state  of  Mr.  Alfred's  affec 
tions.  This  young  gentleman,  as  was  publicly  known, 
had  lately  engaged  himself  to  a  Southern  lady  of  great 
pride  and  high  social  distinction ;  and  his  present  dis 
agreement  with  his  father  arose  out  of  his  wish  to 
break  this  engagement.  His  father  had  no  patience 
with  such  fickleness,  and  their  words  ran  high.  Fin 
ally,  Alfred  threatened  to  follow  his  own  wishes  in 
the  matter,  whether  it  gave  satisfaction  all  round  or 
no;  declaring  that  he  had  been  a  fool  to  tie  himself 
to  a  girl  he  cared  nothing  about,  but  that  he  would 
be  a  still  greater  one  if  he  let  the  mistake  of  a  moment 
mar  his  happiness  for  life.  But  the  old  gentleman's 
sense  of  honour  was  very  keen,  and  he  continued  to 
urge  the  claims  of  the  Southern  lady,  till  his  son  im 
petuously  blurted  out : 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  one  of  us  to  marry  Hope? " 

This  caused  a  break  in  the  conversation. 

"  Do  you  care  for  Hope? "  the  old  gentleman  asked. 
"I  thought  it  was  well  understood  in  this  house  that 
George,  not  you,  was  to  be  given  the  first  opportunity 
of  winning  her. " 

The  oath  with  which  Alfred  answered  was  shock- 


A    SUDDEN   TURN  1 29 

ing  to  Nellie's  ears,  and  affected  her  so  deeply  that 
she  heard  nothing  more  till  these  words  caught  her 
attention : 

"George  has  everything  he  wants;  unlimited  in 
dulgence  in  each  and  every  fancy,  the  liking  of  all 
the  men,  and  the  love  of  all  the  women.  I  am  not  so 
fortunate ;  I  am  neither  a  favourite  with  my  mates  nor 
the  petted  darling  of  their  sisters;  I  like  my  ease,  but 
I  could  give  that  up  for  Hope.  She  is  the  only  woman 
I  have  ever  seen  capable  of  influencing  me.  I  have 
been  quite  a  different  man  since  she  came  into  the 
house.  If  that  is  love,  it  is  a  very  strong  love;  such 
love  as  makes  a  man  out  of  a  nobody.  Father,  let  me 
have  this  darling  girl  for  my  wife.  George  does  not 
care  for  her, — not  as  I  do.  He  would  be  a  better 
fellow  if  he  did." 

Mr.  Gillespie  seemed  quite  upset.  He  loved  this 
son  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  would  very  possibly 
have  been  glad  to  see  the  matter  so  adjusted,  but  it 
did  not  tally  with  his  idea  of  what  people  had  a  right 
to  expect  from  his  sons,  and  he  told  Alfred  so  in  rather 
strong  language. 

"Can  you  remember  that  language?"  asked  the 
coroner. 

She  tried  to  make  him  believe,  and  herself  too,  no 
doubt,  that  her  memory  would  not  serve  her  to  this 
extent;  but  her  honesty  eventually  triumphed  over 
her  devotion  to  the  family  interests,  and  she  finally 
admitted  that  the  old  gentleman  had  said : 

' '  While  I  live  I  will  not  put  up  with  rivalry  of  any 
kind  between  my  sons.  George  is  fond  of  Hope,  and 
I  long  ago  gave  him  my  permission  to  woo  and  marry 


130  THE   SHADOW 

her.  That  you  are  the  child  of  my  heart  shall  not 
make  me  blind  to  the  rights  of  one  I  loved  before  you 
ever  saw  the  light.  Were  I  to  permit  such  shilly 
shallying,  George  would  have  a  right  to  reproach  me 
with  his  wasted  life.  No;  the  influence  which  you 
call  so  great  must  be  exerted  in  his  behalf  rather  than 
yours.  He  needs  it,  Alfred,  as  much,  if  not  more 
than  you  do.  As  to  your  present  engagement,  you 
may  break  it  or  you  may  keep  it,  but  do  not  expect 
me  to  uphold  you  in  any  love-making  with  your 
brother's  choice  till  Hope  has  openly  signified  her 
absolute  refusal  of  his  attentions.  This  she  is  not 
likely  to  do  ;  George  has  too  many  conspicuous 
attractions." 

"  She  has  refused  him  once." 

"  Not  because  her  fancy  was  caught  by  his  younger 
brother,  but  because  she  wished  to  see  some  reforma 
tion  in  his  habits.  In  this  she  was  perfectly  right. 
George  will  have  to  change  his  mode  of  life  very  ma 
terially  before  he  can  be  regarded  as  worthy  of  such 
a  wife." 

"  The  same  might  be  said  of  me ;  but  I  am  no  George. 
I  am  anxious  to  make  such  a  change.  Yet  you  give 
me  no  encouragement  in  my  efforts,  and  even  deny 
me  the  opportunity  of  winning  her  affections." 

"You  were  not  the  first  to  enter  the  field.  Your 
older  brother  has  the  prior  right,  and,  as  I  view  the 
matter,  the  only  right,  to  approach  Hope  in  the  atti 
tude  of  a  lover." 

The  oaths  which  this  excited  turned  the  poor  old 
listener  cold.  Alfred  could  not  see  the  justice  of  his 
brother's  course,  and  stormed  away  about  fairness 


A    SUDDEN   TURN  l$l 

being  shown  to  the  young  girl  herself,  who  possibly 
looked  upon  the  matter  in  another  light  than  he 
did. 

"Then  you  have  been  making  love  to  her  on  the 
sly!  "  vociferated  Mr.  Gillespie,  totally  forgetting 
himself. 

But  this  the  young  man  denied.  If  he  understood 
her  better  than  others  did,  it  was  because  he  loved 
her  better.  He  was  positive  that  she  did  not  care  for 
his  brother,  and  all  but  certain  she  did  care  for  him 
self.  At  all  events  he  flattered  himself  to  this  extent. 
This  called  forth  a  few  more  bitter  words  from  his 
father,  and  Alfred  went  out,  banging  the  door  behind 
him. 

"And  did  you  see  any  change  in  the  manner  of  Mr. 
Gillespie  towards  his  sons  after  this  misunderstanding 
with  Alfred?" 

The  witness  appeared  to  weigh  her  words;  but, 
when  she  answered,  it  was  evident  her  care  arose  from 
a  desire  to  present  the  subject  fairly. 

"I  thought  Mr.  Gillespie  talked  less  and  looked 
about  him  more.  And  the  young  gentlemen  seemed 
conscious  of  this  change  in  him,  for  they  were  very 
careful  not  to  show  their  feelings  too  plainly  in  his 
presence." 

"Yet  there  was  a  manifested  distrust  between 
them?" 

"I  fear  so." 

"Amounting  to  animosity?" 

"That  I  cannot  say.  I  never  heard  them  exchange 
hard  words;  only  neither  of  them  would  leave  the 
field  open  to  the  other.  If  Mr.  George  stayed  home, 


132  THE   SHADOW 

Mr.  Alfred  found  some  excuse  for  doing  so  also;  and 
if  Mr.  Alfred  showed  a  disposition  to  linger  in  the  par 
lour,  Mr.  George  brought  in  his  friends  and  made  a 
social  evening  of  it." 

"  And  is  this  all  you  can  tell  us? " 

"On  this  topic?     Yes." 

"You  never  saw  Miss  Meredith  speaking  apart  to 
either  of  these  two  men?" 

"  No,  sir;  on  the  contrary,  she  appeared  to  avoid  all 
private  conversation  with  any  of  them." 

"Nor  ever  heard  either  of  these  men  swear  he 
would  have  Miss  Meredith  for  his  wife,  no  matter  who 
stood  in  the  way,  or  what  means  were  taken  to  stop 
him?" 

"  Oh,  I  once  heard  Mr.  Alfred  make  use  of  some  vio 
lent  expressions  as  I  was  passing  his  door,  but  I  can 
not  be  sure  he  spoke  the  precise  words  you  mention. 
He  falls  into  fits  of  anger  at  times  and  then  is  liable 
to  forget  himself.  But  his  ill-temper  does  not  last, 
sir.  It  is  quite  unusual  for  him  to  show  unkindness 
for  any  length  of  time." 

After  the  close  of  this  examination,  so  painful  to 
the  witnesses  and  so  humiliating  to  the  three  persons 
whose  most  cherished  feelings  were  thus  exposed  to 
the  public  eye,  the  three  sons  of  Mr.  Gillespie  were 
called  up,  one  after  the  other,  and  questioned. 

Leighton  made  the  best  impression.  Not  being 
involved  in  the  delicate  question  which  had  just  come 
up,  he  had  no  blushes  to  conceal  nor  any  secret  ani 
mosities  to  hold  in  check.  George,  on  the  contrary, 
seemed  to  have  reached  a  state  of  exasperation  which 
made  it  difficult  for  him  to  preserve  any  semblance 


A    SUDDEN   TURN  133 

of  self-possession.  He  stammered  when  he  talked, 
and  looked  much  more  like  having  it  out  with  his 
brother  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight  than  submitting  to 
an  examination  tending  to  incriminate  one  or  both  of 
them  on  a  charge  of  murder.  Alfred  showed  less  bit 
terness,  possibly  because  he  felt  securer  in  his  position 
towards  the  woman  whose  beauty  had  occasioned 
this  rivalry.  Of  the  facts  brought  out  by  their  ac 
cumulated  testimony  I  need  say  little.  They  added 
nothing  to  the  general  knowledge,  and  the  inquiry 
adjourned  with  promise  of  still  more  serious  work  for 
the  morrow. 

Hitherto  the  evidence  had  been  of  a  nature  to  show, 
first,  that  a  crime  had  been  committed,  and,  secondly, 
that  the  relations  between  Alfred  and  his  father  had 
been  such  as  to  occasion  a  desire  on  the  former's  part 
to  be  free  from  the  watchful  eye  of  one  who  stood 
between  him  and  any  attempt  he  might  make  to  win 
the  affections  of  the  woman  upon  whom  he  had  set 
his  heart.  On  this  morning  the  testimony  took  a 
turn,  and  an  endeavour  was  made  to  show  a  positive 
connection  between  Alfred  Gillespie  and  the  drug 
which  had  ended  his  father's  life, — or  so  it  appeared 
at  the  time.  The  visit  he  paid  to  the  dining-room 
during  the  fatal  hour  preceding  his  father's  death  was 
brought  out,  and  the  acknowledgment  reached  that 
he  went  there  in  search  of  his  missing  pencil. 

Then  the  detectives  were  called  to  the  stand  and  re 
quested  to  relate  the  circumstances  connected  with 
the  finding  of  a  certain  cork  and  phial .  the  one  under  the 
edge  of  the  dining-room  rug,  and  the  other  under  the 
clock  on  the  mantel-shelf.  These  aforementioned 


134  THE   SHADOW 

articles  were  then  produced,  and  after  positive  de 
claration  had  been  made  that  they  had  not  been 
allowed  to  come  in  contact  since  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  police,  they  were  severally  handed  down  to  the 
jury,  who  immediately  proceeded  to  satisfy  them 
selves  that  the  scent  of  bitter  almonds  was  nearly  as 
marked  in  one  as  the  other.  This  point  having  been 
reached  and  universal  expectation  raised,  Sweet  water 
handed  up  another  article  to  the  coroner,  saying: 

"  In  this  box,  which  is  as  nearly  air-tight  as  I  could 
procure  offhand,  I  caused  to  be  placed,  as  soon  as 
possible  after  finding  it,  the  pencil  which  we  came 
upon  in  our  search  of  the  dining-room  floor.  Like  the 
phial  and  the  cork,  it  was  kept  isolated  in  a  perfectly 
clean  glass  till  this  box  could  be  procured,  and,  with 
this  fact  in  mind,  may  I  ask  you  to  open  the  box  and 
hand  the  pencil  round  among  the  jury  ? " 

Instantly  a  great  stir  took  place  in  the  whole  body 
of  spectators.  Necks  were  stretched,  heads  were 
craned,  and  a  general  sigh  swept  from  end  to  end  of 
the  room  as  the  coroner  wrenched  the  cover  from  the 
box,  lifted  out  the  pencil,  raised  it  to  his  nose,  and 
then  passed  it  down  to  the  jury.  Only  one  person  in 
sight  failed  to  follow  these  significant  movements 
with  looks  of  curious  interest;  and  that  was  the  un 
happy  man  who  thus  saw  the  finger  of  suspicion, which 
had  been  simply  wavering  in  his  direction,  settle  into 
immobility  and  point  inexorably  towards  him.  A 
white  face  and  a  sinking  heart  were  shown  by  Alfred 
Gillespie  at  that  moment ;  and  in  the  features  of  Hope, 
disclosed  for  one  instant  under  the  stress  of  her  mortal 
anxiety,  I  saw  his  anxiety  reflected  as  in  a  mirror. 


A    SUDDEN   TURN  135 

The  jury  whispered  together  with  nods  and  signifi 
cant  looks  as  this  small  pencil  passed  from  hand  to 
hand — I  had  almost  said  from  nose  to  nose.  Then 
silence  was  restored,  and  the  coroner,  with  a  sudden 
change  of  manner  startling  to  observe  in  one  whose 
bearing  and  tone  reflected  his  feelings  almost  too 
openly,  called  an  expert  in  poisons  to  the  stand. 

His  testimony  established  three  facts;  that  the 
smell  of  prussic  acid  is  unmistakable ;  that  this  poison, 
though  volatile  in  its  character,  preserves  its  own  in 
dividual  odour  for  a  long  time  if  not  subjected  to  too 
much  air;  and,  lastly,  that  if  the  pencil  smelt  of  the 
bottle,  the  pocket  in  which  they  both  had  lain  would 
also  give  out  the  same  odour  of  bitter  almonds. 

When  the  expert  was  seated,  Detective  Sweetwater 
was  called  back.  And  then  for  the  first  time  I  no 
ticed  a  large  package  encumbering  the  coroner's  desk. 
As  this  package  was  being  unrolled,  I  stole  a  look  at 
the  witness,  who,  from  his  assured  air,  evidently  had 
the  thread  of  Alfred's  future  destiny  in  his  hand, 
and  was  astonished  to  see  how  attractive  a  very 
plain  man  can  sometimes  become. 

Perhaps  I  have  not  spoken  of  this  young  detect 
ive's  plainness.  It  was  so  marked  and  of  such  an 
unrelieved  type  that,  after  once  seeing  the  man,  you 
could  never  again  think  of  him  without  recalling  his 
lank  frame  and  inharmonious  features. 

Yet  as  he  stood  there,  calm  amidst  the  tremor  of  this 
throng,  his  eye  sparkled  with  such  intelligence  that  I 
trembled  for  the  man  whose  cause  he  was  expected 
to  damage  with  his  testimony.  Seeing  that  my  feel 
ings  were  shared  by  those  about  me,  I  glanced  back 


136  THE   SHADOW 

at  the  coroner's  table  to  see  what  the  unrolling  of  that 
package  had  revealed,  and  saw,  hanging  from  the  cor 
oner's  hands,  three  vests,  which  he  proceeded  to  dis 
play,  one  by  one,  before  the  witness. 

"  What  are  these? "  he  asked, with  a  stern  look  down 
the  room,  calculated  to  suppress  any  too  open  demon 
stration  of  interest. 

"Vests  ;  the  property  of  the  three  gentlemen 
members  of  the  present  Gillespie  household;  in 
other  words,  those  severally  worn  by  Messrs.  George, 
Leighton,  and  Alfred  Gillespie  on  the  evening  of  their 
father's  death." 

"  How  do  you  know  these  particular  vests  to  be  the 
ones  then  worn?" 

"From  their  material  and  cut,  of  which  I  took 
especial  note  at  the  time." 

"No  other  way?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Foreseeing  the  difficulties  which  might 
arise  if  it  ever  became  necessary  to  distinguish  the 
vests  then  worn  from  the  half  dozen  others  which  we 
should  doubtless  find  in  their  well-supplied  ward 
robes,  I  took  the  precaution  of  secretly  running  my 
finger  over  a  freshly  inked  pen  before  taking  hold  of 
their  vests  in  the  search  I  had  been  commanded  to 
make  of  their  persons.  If  the  marks  of  my  finger 
can  be  seen  on  the  white  linings  of  the  vests  now  in 
your  hand,  you  may  be  sure  they  are  the  ones  sub 
jected  to  my  search  on  that  night,  as  I  communicated 
my  intention  to  no  one  and  have  since  been  exceed 
ingly  careful  not  to  take  anyone  into  my  confidence 
concerning  this  little  trick." 

The  coroner  turned  the  vests.     On  the  back  of  each 


A    SUDDEN    TURN  137 

a  black  spot  was  plainly  visible  to  the  remotest  ob 
server  in  the  room.  A  murmur  of  mingled  admira 
tion  and  suspense  responded  to  this  discovery,  and 
the  coroner  turned  again  to  Sweetwater. 

"May  I  ask,"  said  he,  <:if  you  are  in  a  position  to 
tell  us  to  which  of  these  young  gentlemen  these  sev 
eral  vests  belong?" 

"The  Messrs.  Gillespie  can  be  trusted  to  identify 
their  own  property,"  was  the  answer.  "  But  I  doubt 
if  you  will  consider  this  a  necessary  formality.  There 
is  no  scent  of  bitter  almonds  lingering  about  any  of 
these  pockets.  There  was  none  on  that  night.  This 
I  made  it  my  especial  business  to  ascertain."  And 
he  glanced  at  Alfred  as  much  as  to  say,  "Thank  me 
for  doing  you  what  justice  I  can." 

Such  surprise  followed  this  unexpected  acknow 
ledgment  from  one  whose  manner  had  given  promise 
of  a  very  different  result,  that  it  was  hard  to  tell  where 
the  effect  was  greatest.  Hope's  veil  was  shifted  again, 
and  the  three  brothers  looked  up  simultaneously  and 
with  an  equal  show  of  relief. 

But  their  countenances  fell  again  as  they  noted  the 
witness  still  on  the  stand — waiting. 

My  countenance  fell  too,  or  rather  my  heart  began 
to  throb  apprehensively  as  I  now  perceived  the  face 
and  form  of  Mr.  Gryce  slowly  appearing  round  the 
corner  of  a  certain  jut  in  the  wall  where  he  had  held 
himself  partially  concealed  during  most  of  the  day's 
proceedings.  If  this  sagacious  but  sickly  old  detect 
ive  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  come  forward,  I 
thought  it  worth  mine  to  note  upon  whom  or  on  what 
his  glance  first  fell.  But  I  had  forgotten  his  habit, 


138  THE  SHADOW 

known  to  most  men  who  have  had  anything  to  do 
with  this  celebrated  detective.  He  had  looks  for 
nothing  save  the  umbrella  he  rolled  round  and  round 
between  his  palms ;  though  his  face — if  this  indicated 
anything — was  turned  towards  the  seat  where  the 
three  Gillespies  sat,  rather  than  towards  the  witness 
with  whose  testimony  past,  present,  and  to  come  he 
was  probably  fully  acquainted. 

Meantime  the  coroner  was  speaking. 

"When  you  failed  to  find  the  telltale  scent  of  bit 
ter  almonds  tainting  the  pockets  of  any  of  the  clothes 
worn  by  these  young  gentlemen  at  the  time  you 
searched  them,  what  did  you  do? " 

"As  soon  as  opportunity  offered,  that  is,  as  soon  as 
I  found  myself  unobserved,  I  searched  the  wardrobes 
of  these  young  gentlemen  for  other  vests  and  pockets. ' ' 

"Ah,  and  did  you  come  upon  any  article  of  cloth 
ing  giving  signs  of  having  at  any  time  come  in  contact 
with  this  pencil  or  this  bottle?" 

"I  found  that,"  he  returned,  indicating  a  fourth 
garment,  which  the  coroner  now  deftly  drew  forth 
from  the  paper  where  it  had  hitherto  lain  concealed. 

This  garment  was  a  vest  like  the  others,  and,  like 
them,  of  a  plain  and  inconspicuous  pattern.  As  it 
was  lifted  into  sight,  a  groan  was  heard  which  seemed 
to  spring  from  the  united  breasts  of  the  three  young 
men  behind  him.  Then  one  bounded  to  his  feet. 

"That  is  my  vest,"  he  shouted.  "What  damned 
villain  says  there  is  anything  the  matter  with  it? " 

It  was  George.  The  two  other  brothers  had  shrunk 
back  out  of  sight. 


XV 

THE    MISSING    POCKET 

THE  excitement  was  intense.  To  see  suspicion 
thus  suddenly,  and,  I  must  say,  deftly,  shifted 
from  the  man  hitherto  regarded  guilty  to  one  whom 
nobody  had  seemed  inclined  to  doubt,  was  to  experi 
ence  an  emotion  of  no  ordinary  nature.  I  was  so 
affected  by  it  that  I  quite  forgot  myself,  and  stared 
first  at  the  vest  thus  recognised  by  its  owner,  then  at 
the  witness,  who  was  calmly  awaiting  an  opportunity 
to  speak,  with  deep  bewilderment  only  cut  short  by 
the  coroner's  abrupt  words : 

"  Where  did  you  find  this  vest  I  now  hold  up  before 
you?" 

"In  the  closet  of  the  dressing-room  adjoining  the 
apartment  where  Mr.  George  Gillespie  is  said  to 
sleep." 

"Does  this  dressing-room  communicate  with  the 
hall  or  with  any  other  room  than  the  said  Mr.  Gil- 
lespie's  sleeping  apartment?" 

"No." 

" Is  it  a  large  room  or  a  small  one;  a  mere  closet  or 
a  place  big  enough  for  a  man  to  turn  about  in  with 
ease  and  do  such  a  thing,  say,  as  change  his  vest  with 
out  being  seen  too  plainly  by  persons  in  the  adjoining 
room?  " 

139 


I4O  THE   SHADOW 

"  It  is  a  six-by-ten  room,  sir.  If  anyone  chose  to  do 
what  you  suggest  in  the  especial  corner  where  the 
wardrobe  stands,  he  certainly  would  run  little  chance 
of  being  seen  by  anyone  sitting  near  the  fireplace  of 
the  sleeping  apartment." 

"Why  do  you  speak  of  the  fireplace? " 

"Because  the  evidences  are  strong  that  this  was 
where  Mr.  Gillespie's  three  friends  were  sitting  when 
he  came  up  from  below,  with  the  half-empty  bottle 
of  sherry  in  his  hands." 

"  What  evidences  do  you  allude  to?" 

"The  fact  that  we  found  four  chairs  standing  there 
about  a  table  strewn  with  cards.  I  did  not  see  the 
gentlemen  in  their  seats." 

"  But  you  did  see  this  vest  hanging  on  one  of  the 
nails  in  the  wardrobe?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

' '  A  near  nail  or  a  remote  one  ? ' ' 

"The  remotest  in  the  closet." 

"Very  good.  Now,  what  is  the  matter  with  this 
vest?" 

"It  lacks  a  pocket." 

Ah !     So  that  was  it ! 

The  coroner  turned  the  vest  in  his  hand. 

"What  pocket?" 

"The  lower  right-hand  one,  the  one  where  a  gentle 
man  usually  carries  a  pen,  knife,  or  pencil." 

"What  has  happened  to  it?  How  could  a  pocket 
be  lost  from  a  vest?" 

"  It  has  been  cut  out." 

"Cutout!" 

"Yes,  sir;  we  found  an  open  knife  lying  on  the 


THE  MISSING  POCKET  141 

dresser,  and  if  you  will  look  again  at  the  vest  you  will 
see  that  the  missing  pocket  was  slit  from  it  with  a  very 
hasty  jerk." 

' '  I  avow ' '  shouted  the  voice  of  the  owner  from 

the  seats  behind. 

But  the  infuriated  man  who  thus  attempted  to 
speak  was  quickly  silenced. 

"You  will  be  allowed  to  explain  later,"  remon 
strated  the  coroner.  "At  present  we  are  listening  to 
Mr.  Sweetwater.  Witness,  what  course  did  you  pur 
sue  after  coming  upon  this  vest?" 

"I  endeavoured  to  ascertain  if  its  owner  had  gone 
into  his  dressing-room  after  coming  up  from  the 
room  below." 

Here  we  heard  sobs;  but  they  were  only  a  child's, 
and  the  inquiry  went  on. 

"Did  you  succeed?" 

"I  request  you  to  call  up  Mr.  James  Baxter  as  a 
more  direct  witness." 

His  request  being  complied  with,  Mr.  James  Baxter 
came  forward,  and  expectancy  rose  to  fever-point. 
He  was  one  of  the  three  gentlemen  whose  voices  I  had 
heard  over  the  cards  that  were  being  played  in  George 
Gillespie's  room  during  the  hour  his  father  had  suc 
cumbed  to  poison.  I  recognised  him  at  once  from 
his  burly  figure  and  weak  voice;  having  noticed  this 
eccentricity  at  our  first  meeting.  He  was  not  sober 
then,  but  he  was  very  sober  now,  and  the  effect  he 
produced  was,  on  the  whole,  favourable. 

Glancing  at  George  as  if  in  apology,  and  receiving 
a  tiger's  glare  in  return,  he  waited  with  a  certain  sang 
froid  for  the  inevitable  question.  It  came  quickly 


142  THE   SHADOW 

and  with  a  peremptoriness  which  showed  that  the 
coroner  now  felt  himself  on  safe  ground. 

"Where  were  you  sitting  when  George  Gillespie  left 
you  to  go  down-stairs  for  wine? " 

"At  the  card- table  near  the  fire,  with  my  face  tow 
ards  the  dressing-room  at  the  other  end  of  the  room." 

"  Had  wine  been  passed  then,  or  any  spirituous 
liquors?" 

"No." 

"You  were  all  in  a  perfectly  sober  condition  there 
fore?" 

"Tolerably  so.  Two  of  us  had  had  dinner  at  Del- 
monico's,  but  I  had  been  dining  at  home  and  was  dry. 
That  is  why  Mr.  Gillespie  went  down  for  the  wine." 

"What  did  you  do  while  he  was  downstairs?" 

"  Bet  on  the  Jack  about  to  be  turned  up." 

"  How  much  money  passed?" 

"Oh,  ten  dollars  or  so." 

"And  when  your  host  returned,  what  did  you  do?" 

"  I  guess  we  drank." 

"Did  he  drink  too?" 

"I  did  not  notice.  He  put  the  bottle  down  and 
went  into  his  dressing-room.  When  he  came  back 
he  stood  a  minute  by  the  fire,  then  he  sat  down.  He 
may  have  drank  then.  I  did  n't  observe." 

"What  did  he  do  at  the  fire?  Was  he  warming 
himself?  It  was  not  a  cold  night." 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  did.  I  saw  a  sudden  burst 
of  flame,  but  that  was  all.  I  was  busy  dealing  the 
cards." 

"You  saw  a  flame  shoot  up.  Was  there  wood  or 
coal  in  the  grate?" 


THE  MISSING  POCKET  143 

"Deuce  take  me  if  I  remember.  I  was  n't  think 
ing  of  the  fire.  I  only  knew  we  were  roasting  hot 
and  more  than  once  made  some  movement  towards 
shifting  the  table  further  off,  but  we  got  too  interested 
in  the  cards  to  bother  about  it." 

"  It  must  have  been  a  lively  game.  Were  you  too 
interested  in  shuffling  and  dealing  to  notice  why  Mr. 
Gillespie  went  to  his  dressing-room?" 

"Yes,  I  never  thought  anything  about  it." 

"You  did  n't  watch  him,  then?!' 

"No." 

"Cannot  say  whether  or  not  he  went  towards  his 
wardrobe?!' 

"No." 

"Or,  perhaps,  whether  the  door  between  you  was 
closed  or  not?" 

"  He  did  n't  close  the  door;  I  should  have  noticed 
that." 

"  How  long  was  he  in  that  room?" 

"I  can't  say.  Long  enough  for  me  to  drink  my 
wine  and  shuffle  the  cards.  Before  I  had  dealt  them 
he  had  set  down." 

"One  question  more.  Can  you  truthfully  assert 
he  did  not  cross  his  dressing-room  before  your  eyes, 
change  his  vest  in  the  corner  where  the  wardrobe 
stands,  and  come  back  in  the  same  coat,  but  with  a 
different  vest  on?" 

"No.  I  cannot  even  say  what  kind  of  clothes  he 
wore  that  night.  I  am  no  dude,  and  all  vests,  so  long 
as  they  are  not  striped  or  plaid,  are  alike  to  me." 

This  remark,  which  was  facetious  only  from  the  hu 
morous  contrast  between  the  small  and  highpitched 


144  THE   SHADOW 

voice  and  the  large  and  stalwart  figure  of  the 
speaker,  caused  a  smile  to  appear  on  several  faces. 
But  this  expression  was  soon  replaced  by  one  more 
befitting  the  occasion,  as  a  change  in  witnesses  once 
more  occurred  and  Hewson  appeared  upon  the  stand. 
This  old  servant  of  the  family  was  loath  to  look  at  the 
vest  held  out  before  him,  and  seemed  desirous  of  deny 
ing  that  he  had  noticed  what  his  young  master  had 
worn  at  dinner  that  night.  But  his  precision  and 
habitual  attention  to  details  were  too  well  known 
for  him  to  succeed  in  any  evasion,  and  he  was  forced 
to  declare  that  the  vest  with  the  thumb  mark  on  the 
lining  was  not  the  one  Mr.  George  had  worn  at  dinner. 

This  was  a  fatal  admission  and  George's  case  was 
looking  very  black,  when  a  sudden  cry  mingled  with 
a  burst  of  childish  sobs  was  heard  in  the  room,  and 
little  Claire,  breaking  away  from  the  restraining  hands 
that  sought  to  hold  her  back,  rushed  out  in  face  of 
coroner  and  jury,  and  stretching  out  her  arms  to  her 
father,  cried: 

"Uncle  George  did  n't  cut  the  pocket  out  of  his 
vest.  I  did.  I — I  wanted  a  little  bag  for  my  beads, 
and  Hetty  would  n't  make  me  one;  so  I  stole  into 
uncle's  room  and  snipped  out  the  little  pocket.  It 
was  before  grandpa  died,  and  I  'm  so — so  sorry." 

She  fell  into  her  father's  arms  and  was  crushed, 
nay,  strained  against  that  father's  breast.  Never 
had  a  child's  naughtiness  brought  a  more  perfect  joy; 
while  from  floor  to  ceiling  of  the  great  room,  cries  and 
shouts  of  relief  went  up  from  the  surcharged  hearts 
of  the  spectators  which  for  once  the  coroner  failed  to 
rebuke. 


THE  MISSING  POCKET  145 

Possibly  he  was  as  much  touched  as  anyone.  There 
was  so  much  natural  impulse,  so  much  spontaneity 
in  the  child's  words  and  actions,  that  no  one  could 
doubt  her  candour  or  the  fact  that  this  outburst  had 
been  prompted  by  her  own  contrition. 

Even  Mr.  Gryce  accepted  the  explanation  without 
demur,  though  he  must  have  realised  that  it  demol 
ished  at  a  blow  the  case  he  had  so  carefully  reared 
against  the  oldest  son  of  Mr.  Gillespie.  He  was  even 
seen  to  smile  benignantly  and  with  a  kind  of  soothing 
tenderness  on  the  knob  of  his  umbrella  before  he 
rested  his  chin  upon  it  in  quiet  contemplation. 

Hope,  who  had  made  an  impetuous  movement  as 
the  child  flew  by  her,  let  her  eye  fall  for  a  moment  on 
the  curly  head  almost  nestled  out  of  sight  in  the  pa 
ternal  embrace.  Then  with  a  glance  at  George, 
scarcely  long  enough  to  note  the  relief  this  childish 
hand  had  brought  him,  she  let  her  eye  travel  slowly 
on  to  Alfred,  who,  biting  his  lips  to  keep  down  the 
flush  which  these  rapidly  succeeding  events  had  called 
up,  did  not  catch  her  look,  precious  as  it  doubtless 
would  have  been  to  him. 

Then  and  not  till  then  did  her  gaze  seek  mine. 

Alas!  this  recognition  of  my  interest,  so  eagerly 
anticipated  and  so  patiently  waited  for,  was  in 
spired  by  no  deeper  sentiment  than  a  desire  to  gather 
my  present  idea  of  the  situation  and  what  was  now 
to  be  expected  from  the  baffled  officials. 

If  my  answering  look  conveyed  undue  confidence 
in  the  outcome,  I  had  certainly  sufficient  excuse  for 
it  in  the  attitude  of  those  about  me.  The  explana 
tion  which  George  was  able  to  give  of  the  causes 


146  THE   SHADOW 

which  had  led  to  his  changing  his  vest  on  the  even 
ing  in  question  were  received  with  respect,  if  not  with 
favour,  and  as  it  was  natural  enough  to  gain  credence, 
enthusiasm  in  his  regard  rose  to  such  a  pitch  that  it 
presently  became  evident  that  it  would  be  next  to 
impossible  to  push  the  case  farther  before  this  jury. 

Indeed,  the  reaction  was  so  strong  that  after  some 
futile  attempts  to  reopen  the  inquiry  on  fresh  lines, 
the  coroner  finally  gave  in  and  called  for  the  jury's 
verdict. 

It  was,  as  might  be  expected: 

"  Death  from  the  effects  of  prussic  acid,  adminis 
tered  by  some  hand  unknown." 


M1 


XVI 

IN    THE    PARLOUR    AT    MRS.    PENRHYN's 

EANTIME,  the  will  of  Mr.  Gillespie  had  been 
admitted  to  probate  ;  but  as  he  had  never 
made  any  secret  of  his  intentions,  and  the  share 
and  share  alike  of  his  sons  had  been  left  without  a 
disturbing  codicil,  little  help  was  afforded  by  its  terms 
in  settling  the  harassing  problem  which  more  than 
ever  occupied  the  minds  of  the  community  and  pre 
sented  itself  as  an  almost  unanswerable  puzzle  to  the 
police. 

Even  Mr.  Gryce,  whose  sagacity  no  one  could  doubt, 
showed  how  unpromising  the  affair  looked  to  him  by 
the  line  of  care  which  now  made  its  appearance  on 
his  forehead;  a  forehead  which  had  remained  singu 
larly  unclouded  till  now,  notwithstanding  his  sixty 
or  more  years  of  experience  with  such  knotty  pro 
blems. 

This  I  had  occasion  to  note  in  an  interview  I  held 
with  him  some  few  days  after  the  rendering  of  the 
abovementioned  verdict. 

He  had  sought  me  with  the  intention  of  satisfying 
himself  that  the  ground  had  been  thoroughly  gone 
over,  and  no  possible  clue  had  been  ignored.  But  he 
gained  nothing  new  from  me,  not  even  my  secret,  and 
went  away  at  last,  looking  older  and  more  careworn 


148  THE   SHADOW 

than  my  first  view  of  his  benevolent  and  naturally 
composed  countenance  had  led  me  to  expect. 

But  while  moved  by  this  to  consider  the  serious 
ness  with  which  these  men  regarded  their  duty,  I  was 
much  more  deeply  impressed  by  the  corresponding 
marks  of  secret  disturbance  which  I  presently  dis 
covered  in  my  own  countenance.  For,  in  my  case, 
the  trouble  indicated  did  not  depend  upon  the  settle 
ment  of  an  exciting  case,  but  was  the  result  of  a  last 
ing  impression  made  upon  me  by  a  woman  who  gave 
little  sign  of  sharing  a  passion  likely  to  prove  the  one 
absorbing  experience  of  my  life.  Do  what  I  would,  I 
could  not  forget  her  or  the  position  she  held  among 
these  three  men.  Was  she  still  the  object  of  George's 
attentions  or — worse  still — of  Alfred's  passionate 
hopes?  Did  she  respond  to  the  latter's  devotion,  or 
was  she  still  restrained  by  doubts  of  an  innocence  not 
yet  entirely  proved? 

I  longed  to  know.  I  longed  to  see  for  myself  how 
she  bore  all  these  uncertainties. 

But  no  excuse  offered  itself  for  a  second  intrusion 
upon  her  privacy,  even  if  I  had  been  sure  I  should 
find  her  still  living  with  her  cousins;  and  in  this  un 
rest  and  state  of  anxious  waiting,  the  days  went  by, 
till  suddenly  I  heard  it  casually  mentioned  at  the 
Club  that  Miss  Meredith  was  with  a  distant  connec 
tion  of  the  Gillespies  in  Fifty-seventh  Street. 

This  was  like  fire  to  tow.  Without  waiting  to  quest 
ion  my  own  motives  or  to  ask  whether  it  would  be 
for  my  happiness  or  misery  to  see  her  again,  I  called 
at  the  Penrhyn  mansion  and  inquired  for  Miss  Mere 
dith. 


IN   THE  PARLOUR  AT  MRS.  PENRHYN'S     149 

To  my  great  relief  and  consequent  delight  she  con 
sented  to  receive  me,  and  I  presently  found  myself 
seated  in  a  choice  little  reception-room  awaiting  her 
coming.  Only  then  did  I  begin  to  realise  my  own 
temerity.  With  what  words  should  I  accost  her? 
How  open  conversation  without  suggesting  griefs  I 
was  burning  to  make  her  forget  ?  I  had  no  time  to 
decide.  She  was  at  the  door  and  in  the  room  before 
my  mind  could  frame  the  simplest  greeting;  and, 
once  brought  face  to  face  with  her,  I  forgot  every 
thing  but  herself  and  the  irresistible  charm  which  her 
presence  exerted  over  me. 

She  had  been  weeping,  and  I  could  not  but  see  that 
the  sight  of  my  face  recalled  scenes  suggestive  of  the 
deepest  suffering.  In  my  dismay  I  found  my  tongue 
and  attempted  some  conventional  expressions  of  good 
will.  These  she  no  sooner  heard  than  she  cut  me 
short  by  an  irrepressible  exclamation. 

"Pray, —  "  she  entreated.  "  You  have  been  with  me 
during  a  time  of  too  much  misery  for  such  formalities 
as  these  to  pass  between  us."  Then,  before  I  could 
protest,  "What  is  wanted  of  me  now?  I  know  you 
desire  explanations  of  some  kind;  everybody  does 
who  approaches  me;  even  my  best  friends.  Yet  I 
unburdened  myself  of  everything  I  knew  that  first 
night." 

I  may  have  looked  hurt.  I  certainly  felt  so;  but 
she  did  not  notice  this  result  of  her  abrupt  attack; 
she  was  too  full  of  the  feverish  anxiety  roused  by  the 
subject  she  had  herself  introduced. 

"  But  you  are  a  just  man  and  a  good  one,"  she  went 
on.  "I  do  not  need  to  be  told  so;  I  see  it  in  your 


150  THE   SHADOW 

face.  You  will  be  honest  with  me,  and  will  at  least 
acquaint  me  with  the  motive  underlying  any  quest 
ions  you  may  put.  Others  deceive  me,  and  lead  me 
into  confidences  they  afterwards  turn  against  me  or 
against  those  I  have  reason  to  be  true  to,  though  I 
was  the  first  to  betray  them." 

Her  cheek,  so  pale  at  her  entrance,  was  burning  red 
now,  and  she  spoke  quickly,  almost  disconnectedly. 
I  saw  that  she  needed  rallying,  and  smiled. 

"Now  it  is  you  who  are  pressing  the  subject  you 
abhor.  I  have  not  asked  you  anything;  I  shall  not. 
I  have  not  come  here  to  satisfy  either  my  curiosity  or 
the  demands  of  the  law.  I  am  here  to  inquire  after 
your  health  and  to  renew  my  offer  of  service.  May  I 
be  excused  for  my  interest  in  yourself?  It  is  involun 
tary  on  my  part  and  so  sincere  that  your  uncle,  were 
he  living,  could  not  object  to  it." 

Soothed  by  my  voice  as  much  as  by  my  words,  she 
sat  down  and  endeavoured  to  open  conversation.  But 
there  was  a  constraint  in  her  manner  which  convinced 
me  that  she  was  labouring  under  a  too  vivid  remem 
brance  of  the  scene  where  we  had  last  met. 

"What  a  position  is  mine!"  burst  at  last  from  her 
lips.  "I  have  three  natural  protectors,  yet  I  do  not 
know  of  an  arm  on  which  I  can  place  my  hand  with 
implicit  confidence.  This  is  my  reason  for  being  in 
this  house;  and  why  I  hail  with  eagerness,  too  great 
eagerness,  perhaps,  the  prospect  of  a  friend." 

It  was  an  appeal  for  which  I  found  myself  poorly 
prepared,  especially  as  it  was  made  with  such  sim 
plicity  and  in  such  evident  disregard  of  the  feelings 
which  made  my  presence  there  of  such  import  to  my- 


IN   THE  PARLOUR  AT  MRS,  PENRHYN'S     !$! 

self.  It  recalled  to  me  her  position;  and  remember 
ing  that  she  was  a  comparative  stranger  in  town,  and 
that  since  her  coming  she  had  been  all  in  all  to  her 
uncle  in  capacities  which  had  kept  her  much  at  home 
and  out  of  the  society  where  she  might  have  made 
friends  and  found  support  in  this  dreadful  emergency, 
I  composed  myself,  and,  leaning  forward,  took  her 
hand  in  mine  with  a  respect  she  could  not  but  feel, 
since  it  permeated  my  whole  being. 

"I  am  a  stranger  to  you,"  was  my  plea,  "notwith 
standing  the  vivid  experiences  which  have  brought 
us  together.  You  know  little  of  me  beyond  my  name 
and  the  fact  that  my  one  wish,  since  first  seeing  you, 
has  been  to  serve  you  and  save  you  from  every  possible 
annoyance.  This  must  be  obvious  to  you,  or  you 
would  not  have  accepted  me  so  unhesitatingly  for 
your  lawyer.  Will  you  add  to  this  title — a  title 
which  you  have  yourself  given  me,  the  more  personal 
one  you  have  just  mentioned?  Will  you  let  me  be  the 
friend  you  need  ?  You  can  find  no  truer  one. " 

She  broke  into  a  confused  stammering,  amid  which 
I  heard:  "I  will.  You  give  me  confidence."  Then 
she  sat  still,  her  hand  trembling  in  mine  and  her  eyes 
shining  with  a  new  light.  It  was  an  innocent  one, 
that  of  a  child  who  has  stumbled  on  a  protector  in  the 
dark;  but  to  me  it  was  the  very  glow  of  heaven,  the 
first  ray  of  promise  by  means  of  which  I  could  discern, 
even  in  fancy,  the  fairy-land  of  my  dreams.  Was  it 
any  wonder  it  intoxicated  me?  Forgetting  that  I 
had  not  been  to  her  all  that  she  had  been  to  me  for 
the  last  few  weeks;  forgetting  everything  but  that 
she  was  an  unhappy  woman  whom  I  passionately 


152  THE   SHADOW 

loved,  I  gazed  in  her  face  as  a  man  gazes  at  a  woman 
but  once  in  a  lifetime. 

She  did  not  lower  her  eyes;  would  that  she  had! 
but  met  my  looks  with  a  half  smile  whose  open  and 
indulgent  kindness  should  have  warned  me  to  recover 
my  ground  while  it  was  safe.  But  a  sudden  madness 
had  seized  me,  and  seeing  simply  that  it  was  a  smile, 
I  found  it  impossible  to  realise  in  the  frenzy  of  the 
moment  that  the  feelings  I  had  hitherto  ascribed  to 
her  were  true.  She  had  liked,  not  loved  her  cousins. 
They  had  been  good  to  her,  and  in  return  she  had 
given  them  a  cousinly  regard  which  in  one  instance, 
perhaps,  approached  the  warmth  of  love.  But  it  was 
a  love  far  from  necessary  to  her  life — or  so  I  dared 
dream;  while  my  passion  for  her  was  a  part  of  my 
being,  so  close  a  part  that  I  felt  forced  to  speak  and 
claim  her  as  my  own  in  this  hour  of  her  greatest 
trouble  and  perplexity.  Before  I  knew  it;  before 
she  had  time  to  restrain  me  by  word  or  look,  I  was 
pouring  out  my  soul  before  her.  Not  in  the  respect 
ful,  measured  way  I  had  foreseen  when  looking  for 
ward  to  this  hour,  but  wildly,  hotly,  as  a  man  speaks 
when  the  treasure  of  his  life  is  to  be  won  by  one 
strong  effort. 

It  was  sudden;  it  was  perhaps  unwarranted;  but 
my  sincerity  moved  her.  That  was  perhaps  why  she 
listened  so  patiently,  and  it  was  to  this  recognition  of 
my  candid  regard  I  attribute  the  look  of  wistfulness 
which  crept  over  her  features  when  I  ceased. 

"Oh!"  she  murmured,  "why  cannot  I  accept  the 
love  of  this  good  man?"  And,  rising  up,  she  walked 
away  from  me  to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 


IN    THE  PARLOUR  AT  MRS.  PENRHYN'S     153 

Breathlessly  I  watched  her;  breathlessly  I  noted 
her  walk,  the  droop  of  her  head,  the  agitated  work 
ing  of  her  hands.  Would  my  good  angel  stand  by 
me  and  turn  her  trembling  heart  my  way,  or  must  I 
prepare  myself  to  see  her  pause,  turn,  and  come  back 
to  me  with  denial  in  her  looks  ?  The  suspense  of  that 
moment  I  shall  never  forget.  It  has  never  been  re 
peated  in  my  experience.  Never  since  have  I  suf 
fered  so  much  in  any  one  moment. 

Suddenly  it  was  all  over.  She  turned  and  I  read 
my  doom  in  her  sorrowing  face. 

"You  are  good,"  she  cried,  "and  it  would  be  an 
infinite  rest  to  be  lifted  out  of  the  agony  I  am  in  and 
be  cared  for  by  someone  I  could  perfectly  trust.  But 
I  cannot  accept  a  devotion  which  fails  to  awaken  in 
me  aught  but  simple  gratitude  and  friendliness.  Un 
fortunately  for  me,  and  perhaps  unfortunately  for 
him  whom  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  name,  I  have 
given  my  whole  heart —  She  choked  back  the 
words  with  a  certain  wildness.  Then  she  faced  me 
with  mournful  dignity  and  avowed  calmly,  and  with 
a  certain  finality  which  caused  my  hopes  to  sink  back 
into  the  depths  from  which  they  had  so  inconsider 
ately  sprung,  "I  have  fixed  my  heart  where  perhaps 
I  should  not.  Pity  me,  but  do  not  blame." 

7  blame,  7  /  who  had  committed  the  same  folly,  was 
suffering  from  the  same  mistake ! 

"He  may  be  the  one  true  heart  amongst  them. 
Sometimes  I  think  he  is ;  sometimes  I  think  his  faults 
are  blemishes  upon  a  nature  noble  enough  for  any 
love  and  worship;  then  doubt  comes,  horrible,  cor 
roding  doubt,  and  I  see  in  him  a  fiend,  a  monster,  a 


154  THE   SHADOW 

being  too  dreadful  to  contemplate,  much  less  dream 
of  and  adore.  Oh,  if  I  did  but  know " 

"You  shall  know!"  I  burst  forth,  forgetting  my 
own  misery  in  hers.  "I  have  been  selfish  in  urging 
my  personal  wishes  upon  you  when  I  should  have 
been  occupied  with  yours.  Henceforth  I  shall  think 
only  of  you.  To  see  you  happy,  to  see  you  at  peace, 
shall  be  my  joy  and  prove  my  consolation.  I  cannot 
rejoice  at  the  task,  if  task  it  can  be  called,  but  from 
this  day  on  my  energies  shall  be  devoted  to  the  set 
tling  of  that  doubt  which,  while  it  exists,  robs  you  of 
all  peace  of  mind.  If  Alfred  is  the  guiltless  man  we 
are  fain  to  believe  him,  you  shall  know  it.  I  feel  that  it 
is  possible  to  prove  him  so,  and  my  feelings  have  of  ten 
been  very  reliable  guides  in  difficult  undertakings." 

She  was  startled;  she  was  more  than  startled;  she 
was  alarmed.  "I  don't  understand  you,"  she  cried. 
"What  can  you  do?  If  the  one  guilty  heart  among 
my  cousins  refuses  to  respond  to  the  appeal  made  to 
it  by  my  uncle,  how  can  you  hope  to  move  so  callous 
a  soul  to  a  sense  of  its  duty  ? " 

"I  cannot.  With  the  hand  of  the  law  raised  in  threat 
against  him,  he  would  be  throwing  away  his  life  to 
proclaim  his  guilt  to  anyone  now.  It  would  be  folly 
on  our  part  to  expect  it.  But  there  are  other  means 
by  which  this  question  may  be  settled.  We  do  not 
gather  figs  of  thorns  or  grapes  of  thistles.  Consider, 
then,  in  which  of  these  three  breasts  the  thorns  are 
found  thickest;  and,  if  uncertainty  yet  remains,  to 
which  of  your  cousins  your  uncle's  death  offered  the 
greatest  release." 

"  Have  I  not  already  asked  myself  these  questions? 


IN   THE  PARLOUR  AT  MRS.  PENRHYN'S     155 

Have  I  not  repeated  them  over  and  over  in  my  own 
mind  till  their  ceaseless  repetition  has  well-nigh  mad 
dened  me?  I  think  I  know  George,  yet  I  dare  not 
say  he  has  a  heart  incapable  of  crime.  I  think  I  know 
Alfred  and  I  think  I  know  Leighton;  but  what  cer 
tainty  can  this  imaginary  knowledge  give  me  of  the 
integrity  of  men  who  hide  their  best  impulses  under 
wild  ways  or  cloud  them  with  plausible  hypocrisies? 
There  is  not  an  open  soul  among  the  three;  and  un 
less  one  of  them  consents  to  confess  his  crime,  we  can 
never  feel  sure  of  the  two  true  men  who  are  guiltless. 
That  is,  I  never  can.  I  should  be  haunted  by  doubts 
just  as  I  am  to-day,  and  to  be  doubt-haunted  is  mis 
ery,  the  depth  of  which  you  cannot  judge  unless  you 
know  my  history." 

"And  that  I  cannot  ask  for — "  I  began. 

"Yet  why  should  I  keep  it  from  you?  You  have 
eamed  my  confidence.  You  are,  and  are  likely  to 
remain,  my  only  friend;  then  why  should  I  hold  back 
facts  well  known  to  those  who  come  in  daily  contact 
with  me?  I  am  unfortunate  in  having  a  father  who 
is  no  father  to  me.  From  earliest  childhood  till  I  left 
him  to  come  to  New  York,  I  had  never  received  from 
either  parent  a  caress  which  was  more  than  a  formal 
ity.  My  father's  lack  of  sympathy  rose  from  the 
mortal  disappointment  he  suffered  when,  of  his  two 
children,  it  was  the  girl  and  not  the  boy  who  survived 
the  illness  which  prostrated  both.  My  mother — but 
I  will  not  talk  of  her ;  she  has  been  dead  a  dozen  years 
— only  you  will  believe  me  when  I  say  that  all  tokens 
of  affection  were  lacking  to  my  childhood  and  that 
the  first  word  expressive  of  warmth  and  protection 


156  THE   SHADOW 

came  to  me  from  the  cousin  who  met  me  at  the  train 
the  day  I  entered  upon  my  new  life  in  my  dear  uncle's 
home.  Do  you  wonder  this  unexpected  tenderness 
blinded  me  a  little  to  faults  which  I  had  no  reason  then 
to  think  would  ever  develop  into  anything  worse?" 

I  rose  to  leave;  my  self-control  was  not  strong 
enough  for  me  to  bear  up  against  these  repeated  at 
tacks.  As  I  did  so,  I  said: 

"  Miss  Meredith,  you  have  heard  my  promise.  May 
I  be  prospered  in  my  undertaking,  for  success  in  it 
means  not  only  satisfaction  to  myself  but  great  relief 
to  you.  Why  do  you  tremble? " 

"I  fear — I  dread  your  interference.  Sometimes  I 
wish  never  to  know  the  truth.  You  will  call  me 
inconsistent,  unreasonable.  Indeed,  I  know  I  am; 
but  what  can  you  expect  from  a  girl  upon  whom  the 
blessing  of  God  has  never  rested?" 

This  was  a  new  phase  in  her  nature,  the  more  dis 
tressing  to  me,  that,  knowing  little  of  women,  I  did 
not  understand  her.  She  saw  the  effect  of  her  out 
burst,  and  melted  immediately. 

"This  is  a  bad  return  for  your  generosity,"  she 
cried.  "Ascribe  it  to  my  weakness  and  the  dread  I 
feel  lest  he " 

"The  guilty  man,"  I  interposed,  "is  not  a  subject 
for  sympathy.  But  he  whom  you  love  is  not  the 
guilty  man,"  I  bravely  assured  her.  "Take  my  word 
and  my  hope  for  that.  A  man  who  could  win  your 
regard  has  no  such  black  spot  in  his  breast." 

And,  bowing  over  her  hand,  I  escaped  before  she 
could  propound  any  of  the  many  questions  my  de 
clared  purpose  was  likely  to  call  up. 


BOOK  II 

THE   MAN 

XVII 


I  HAD  made  my  promise  to  Miss  Meredith  with  an 
apparent  hopefulness  which  may  have  deceived 
her,  but  did  not  deceive  myself.  When,  the  glow  of 
my  first  enthusiasm  passed,  I  sat  down  in  the  soli 
tude  of  my  own  room  to  reconsider  the  events  of  the 
day,  but  one  thing  was  clear  to  me,  and  that  was  the 
unpromising  nature  of  the  task  I  had  set  myself  to 
perform.  What  excuse  had  I  for  the  self-confidence 
I  had  shown?  What  means  were  at  my  command 
which  were  not  also  at  the  command  of  the  police? 
She  herself  had  asked  this  same  question,  and  I  had 
parried  it.  But  I  could  not  parry  the  demands  of  my 
own  intelligence.  They  must  be  met  and  answered. 
But  how?  In  vain  I  pondered  ways  and  means;  laid 
innumerable  plans  and  relentlessly  discarded  them; 
projected  interviews  which  I  knew  were  fruitless,  and 
worked  myself  through  labyrinths  of  reasoning  which 
ended  in  nothing  and  left  me  no  farther  advanced  at 
the  end  than  I  was  in  the  beginning. 


158  THE  MAN 

Wearied  at  last  in  mind  and  body,  I  retired,  and 
during  my  sleep  had  an  inspiration  upon  which  I 
proceeded  to  act  early  the  next  morning.  Revisiting 
Sam  Underhill's  apartment,  I  told  him  my  difficulty 
and  opened  up  my  scheme.  Sam  Underbill,  with  all 
his  faults  and  numberless  eccentricities,  was  a  good 
fellow  at  bottom,  and  just  the  man  to  respect  my  con 
fidence.  He  was,  besides,  the  only  person  within  the 
range  of  my  acquaintances  who  could  assist  me  in 
the  plan  I  had  formed;  a  plan  which  demanded 
the  active  cooperation  of  someone  not  so  well  known 
to  the  police  as  myself.  Hampered  as  I  was  by  my 
well-known  connection  with  the  Gillespie  poisoning 
case,  I  could  not  personally  make  a  move  towards 
the  ravelment  of  its  mystery  without  subjecting  my 
self  to  the  curiosity  of  the  people  among  whom  my 
investigations  might  carry  me,  even  if  I  escaped  draw 
ing  upon  myself  the  attention  of  the  District  Attor 
ney's  office  and  the  suspicion  of  the  men  whose 
business  I  was  in  a  measure  attempting  to  usurp.  But 
he  was  a  free  agent;  he  could  come  and  go  without 
arousing  distrust  or  awakening  professional  jealousy. 
At  all  events  he,  and  he  alone,  could  put  me  into  com 
munication  with  the  private  detective  whom  I  had 
decided  to  employ.  As  I  had  always  been  accustomed 
to  visit  Sam's  rooms,  my  presence  there  at  any  hour 
of  the  day  or  night  would  raise  no  comment.  I  had 
only  his  laziness  to  fear,  a  laziness  which  with  him 
was  as  marked  a  characteristic  as  it  was  with  Alfred 
Gillespie,  whom  he  so  carelessly  criticised. 

Seated  with  him  over  an  impromptu  chafing-dish 
breakfast,  I  first  tested  his  good  nature  by  a  sally  or 


THE  MONOGRAM  159 

two,  and  finding  it  well  up  to  the  mark,  took  him,  as 
I  have  already  said,  sufficiently  into  my  confidence 
to  rouse  his  interest ;  then  I  put  the  blunt  question : 

"Which  of  the  three  Gillespie  boys  do  you,  upon 
mature  reflection,  consider  the  most  capable  of  the 
crime  attributed  to  this  family?" 

His  manner  changed  at  once. 

"Oh,  come  now!"  he  cried,  "don't  calculate  upon 
putting  me  in  that  box.  Like  the  rest  of  the  world 
I  prefer  to  await  developments  before  committing 
myself  on  so  delicate  a  matter.  Why,  Outhwaite, 
prejudice  is  as  bad  as  the  hangman !  If  I  had  settled 
positively  in  my  own  mind  which  of  the  three  had 
emptied  that  phial  of  poison  into  the  old  gentleman's 
evening  glass,  I  would  not  impart  my  convictions. 
These  fellows  have  enough  to  carry  without  my  throw 
ing  the  least  weight  into  so  trembling  a  balance." 

I  girded  myself  for  the  struggle. 

"Wait,"  said  I;  "have  I  fully  made  clear  to  you 
Miss  Meredith's  position?" 

"Yes,  I  comprehend  that  well  enough." 

"Very  well,  then.  Which  is  most  important;  to 
assist  this  unhappy  woman  to  escape  from  her  anoma 
lous  position,  or  to  prevent  prejudice  from  being 
formed  in  my  mind,  when  you  know  how  impossible 
it  would  be  for  me  to  misuse  it  to  my  advantage  ?  " 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  he  retorted.  " I  don't 
know  of  a  fellow  more  likely  to  be  carried  away  by 
his  convictions  than  yourself.  If  you  were  not  a 
lawyer  you  would  be  doing  all  sorts  of  quixotic  things ; 
but,  being  hemmed  in  by  professional  convention 
alities,  you  show  some  restraint,  though  not  enough 


160  THE  MAN 

to  warrant  me  in  trusting  you  with  my  opinion  on 
this  matter — since  it  is  only  an  opinion." 

Naturally,  I  became  eager  to  know  what  lay  behind 
this  break.  Opinions  are  not  formed  without  some 
show  of  reason,  and  the  lightest  reason  might  suffice 
to  put  me  on  the  track  I  sought.  He  saw  my  resol 
ution  in  my  face,  and  made  an  effort  to  resist. 

"I  am  as  sorry  as  you  are  for  Miss  Meredith,"  he 
drawled,  helping  me  to  fresh  coffee.  "If  I  had  seen 
her  the  day  she  gave  her  testimony  I  might  be  sorrier 
still;  but  I  did  not  have  that  pleasure,  and  so  am  will 
ing  to  leave  the  matter  with  those  whose  duty  it  is 
to  see  that  justice  is  meted  out  to  the  guilty." 

"  Do  you  think  their  efforts  are  likely  to  be  success 
ful?" 

"Oh,  the  question  will  be  solved  some  day." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

At  this  repetition  of  the  phrase,  which  I  had  made 
forcible  by  my  intonation,  he  raised  his  eyebrows  and, 
emptying  his  cup  before  answering,  gave  me  an  oppor 
tunity  to  add: 

"  With  nothing  to  go  upon  but  an  accusation  which, 
while  involving  all  three  of  Mr.  Gillespie's  sons,  speci 
fies  none,  how  can  any  official  action  be  taken  beyond 
that  very  ordinary  one  of  submitting  the  whole  house 
hold  to  a  continual  surveillance  ?  Unless  fresh  evid 
ence  comes  in,  or  conscience  drives  the  guilty  to 
confession,  weeks,  months,  nay,  years  will  go  by,  and 
the  hand  which  hesitates  to  move  now  will  hesitate 
still  ;  justice  needing  something  more  definite  to  go 
upon  than  a  suspicion  equally  divided  amongst 
three  men." 


THE  MONOGRAM  l6l 

"  You  are  right  there,  but  what  can  you  do  to  better 
the  situation?  It  appears  to  me  that  you  will  have 
to  wait  too." 

"Which  contradicts  your  former  assertion." 

"Very  possibly;  man  is  full  of  contradictions  at  so 
early  an  hour  as  this,  and  with  only  one  cup  of  coffee 
between  him  and  the  possible  nightmare  of  the  night 
before." 

"Drink  another  cup,  then,  while  I  tell  you  what 
my  hopes  are.  Guided  by  impressions  which  more 
than  once  in  my  life  have  proved  infallible,  I  mean  to 
run  my  man  down  till  he  succumbs  to  the  pressure  I 
will  bring  upon  him,  and  confesses.  This,  I  believe, 
can  be  done  if  all  my  force  is  concentrated  on  one 
man.  At  all  events  it  is  the  only  way  I  see  of  attain 
ing  the  desired  end.  Now,  will  you  assist  me  to 
choose  the  one  out  of  these  three  most  open  to  attack?" 

"I  don't  like  it;  it  is  against  all  my  principles,  but 
if  you  must  know  the  exact  state  of  my  feelings  on  this 
matter,  come  to  these  rooms  to-night  at  nine  sharp 
and  I  will  allow  you  to  hear  from  the  lips  of  a  certain 
acquaintance  of  mine  a  story  which  may  serve  to  give 
you  some  enlightenment.  He  's  not  a  man  you  will 
want  to  meet,  so  I  must  ask  you  to  content  yourself 
with  an  easy  chair  in  my  den.  He  will  be  received  in 
this  room,  and  the  door  yonder  can  be  left  conven 
iently  open.  Do  you  object  to  this  arrangement?  It 
smacks  of  conspiracy  and  other  things  not  altogether 
agreeable;  but  it  's  the  best  I  can  do  for  you  at  this 
time,  and  poor  Yox  won't  care;  it  's  your  feelings  I 
am  mainly  considering." 

"I   will    be    here,"    I    doggedly   replied.       I    was 


1 62  THE  MAN 

resolved  to  let  nothing,  not  even  my  prejudices  as  a 
gentleman,  interfere  with  the  successful  pursuit  of 
this  undertaking.  "Will  his  story  contain  any  refer 
ence  to  Miss  Meredith?" 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.     Why  ? ' ' 

"Because  I  always  find  it  difficult  to  sit  still  when 
I  hear  ladies  spoken  of  in  any  way  short  of  the  deep 
est  respect;  and  you  say  he  is  not  a  gentleman." 

"He  won't  transgress  to  that  degree.  If  he  does, 
trust  to  my  bringing  him  to  order.  Sorry  I  must 
place  an  embargo  on  the  cigars  you  will  find  on  the 
table.  Smoking  on  your  part  would  give  away  your 
presence ;  for  the  man  whose  story  you  are  coming  to 
hear  is  one  of  those  fellows  who  smell  a  rat  round  the 
corner.  In  other  words,  he  's  a  private  detective 
with  whom  I  was  once  thrown  in  a  peculiar  way.  What 
now?" 

"  Perhaps  he  's  the  very  fellow  I  want.  I  have  use 
for  a  private  detective." 

"  So — I — suppose." 

This  sentence,  so  long  in  coming,  was  uttered  in  a 
peculiar  way,  and  at  the  moment  we  were  rising  from 
table.  Though  I  said  nothing,  I  experienced  an 
access  of  courage.  Unpromising  as  Sam's  manner 
had  been,  he  was  really  in  sympathy  with  me,  and 
willing  to  lend  me  a  helping  hand. 

That  day  the  law  suffered,  or,  rather,  I  should  say, 
such  clients  as  were  misguided  enough  to  come  to  my 
office.  The  uncertain  nature  of  the  disclosure  I 
awaited,  and  the  doubt  as  to  which  of  the  three 
brothers  it  would  chiefly  affect,  kept  me  restless  up 
to  the  hour  set  apart  for  my  return  to  Sam  Under- 


THE  MONOGRAM  163 

hill's  room.  Not  till  nine  o'clock  arrived  and  I  found 
myself  in  the  small  apartment  called  his  den,  did  I 
recover  my  poise  and  show  anything  like  a  steady 
countenance  in  the  long  mirror  stretched  above  the 
mantel.  This  has  always  been  a  characteristic  of 
mine.  Great  agitation  up  to  the  moment  of  action, 
and  then  an  unnatural  calmness.  In  this  case  it  was 
an  event  I  awaited;  but  the  characteristic  remained 
unchanged. 

Sam  Underhill,  on  the  contrary,  never  appeared 
more  at  his  ease.  I  could  hear  him  singing  between 
the  whiffs  of  his  cigar,  and,  as  I  followed  the  mellow 
strains  of  one  of  the  finest  tenors  I  have  ever  known, 
I  recalled  the  fact  that  I  myself  had  not  sung  a  note 
since  the  experience  which  had  made  such  heavy 
inroads  into  my  life.  Was  I  growing  misanthropic? 
Sam  had  not  been  without  his  dark  days.  I  remem 
bered  quite  well  all  the  talk  that  went  about  at  the 
time  of  his  mad  passion  for  Dorothy  Loring, — that 
bewitching  madcap  who  afterwards  found  her  match 
in  Steve  Wilson, — and  I  could  not  reconcile  that  dis 
appointment  with  his  present  gaiety. 

But  these  reflections  cannot  be  of  any  interest  to 
my  readers;  enough  that  they  occupied  me  at  the 
time  and  killed  my  impatience,  till  a  sudden  stop 
page  in  the  strain  I  objected  to  warned  me  that  the 
expected  visitor  had  arrived.  I  squared  myself  for 
the  ordeal,  held  my  breath,  and  prepared  to  listen. 

The  greetings  were  commonplace.  Sam  is  a  proud 
chap  and  does  not  put  himself  out  much  for  anybody. 
To  this  man  he  scarcely  showed  common  courtesy. 
Perhaps  he  was  afraid  of  awakening  distrust  by  any 


164  THE   MAN 

betrayal  of  interest  in  the  coming  interview;  perhaps 
he  recognised  that  a  barely  civil  greeting  was  all  the 
man  expected  or  desired. 
"Halloo,  Yox!" 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Underbill." 
"  Did  I  ask  you  to  call  on  me  to-night? " 
"You  certainly  did,   Mr.   Underhill,  and  set  the 
hour." 

"Well,  well,  I  suppose  you  are  correct.  Sit  down. 
My  memory  is  not  much  longer  than  this  cigar,  which 
you  may  observe  is  almost  smoked  up.  Have  one, 
Yox;  you  won't  get  a  better  in  your  shop;  and  now, 
what  have  you  come  to  tell  me  ? " 

"Not  much.  Dennison  bought  seven  shares  last 
Tuesday  and  Little  invested  in  as  many  more  yester 
day.  Both  men  show  confidence,  and  to-morrow's 
report  will  be  all  you  can  wish." 

' '  Good !     How  much  do  I  owe  you  ?    Will  that  do  ? " 

I  heard  a  rustle,  then  a  short  laugh  preceding  the 

remark,  "You  might  halve   it    and  still   please  me. 

Oh,  I  '11  take  it.     Not  too  much  grist  comes  to  my 

mill." 

Here  there  was  a  silence.  Underhill  was  evid 
ently  lighting  a  fresh  cigar.  When  they  spoke 
again  it  was  to  drift  into  generalities,  to  which  I  lis 
tened  with  an  impatience  in  marked  contrast  to  the 
complacency  of  Sam,who  seemed  just  too  tired  to  live; 
that  is,  if  I  could  judge  from  his  tone  and  the  total 
absence  of  interest  he  expresed  in  anything  said 
either  by  himself  or  his  somewhat  vulgar  guest.  But 
suddenly  there  was  a  change,  not  in  Underhill,  whose 
voice  was  even  more  languishing  than  before,  but  in 


THE  MONOGRAM  165 

myself;  for  I  heard  Sam  remark  between  two  pro 
longed  whiffs: 

"  What  is  that  story  you  were  trying  to  tell  me  the 
other  night  about  the  row  in  lower  -  -  Street?  I 
thought  it  promised  to  be  interesting  at  the  time,  but 
the  other  fellows  were  in  such  a  hurry  I  couldn't  stay 
to  hear  it  out.  Tell  it  again,  Yox,  just  as  you  did 
then;  perhaps  it  will  wake  me  up." 

The  answer  came  more  quickly  than  I  expected. 

"Oh,  that?  Well,  I  don't  mind.  It  was  a  curious 
adventure  and  brought  me  too  near  the  police  for  me 
to  forget  it  in  a  hurry.  I  wish  I  knew  who  that  fellow 
was.  Did  I  show  you  the  match-box  I  found  in  one 
of  the  pockets  of  the  coat  he  gave  me?  The  mono 
gram " 

"Never  mind  the  monogram.  We  '11  talk  about 
that  afterwards,"  broke  in  Sam  in  the  sleepiest  tones 
imaginable.  "I  don't  care  so  much  about  the  man 
as  the  way  he  acted.  This  struck  me  as  being  strange 
for  a  gentleman.  But  begin,  Yox;  you  relate  ad 
ventures  well.  I  have  heard  you  talk  more  than 
once." 

Yox,  who  was  not  above  flattery,  hemmed,  hawed, 
and  launched  out  in  the  following  tale.  I  transcribe 
his  words  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember  them.  At 
first  he  did  not  interest  me  much. 

"You  see,  I  had  business  at  old  Mother  Merry's. 
Do  you  know  the  place?  It  's  not  likely,  so  I  will 
describe  it;  you  need  to  know  something  about  it  in 
order  to  understand  my  story. 

"It's  an  old  fish-market,  or,  rather,  that  was  its 
use  once ;  now  it 's  a  sort  of  lodging-house,  standing  half 


1 66  THE  MAN 

on  the  dock  and  half  on  piles,  somewhere  down  near 
Street.  I  like  the  place.  That  is.it  has  a  myster 
ious  air  which  we  fellows  don't  object  to.  Seen  from 
the  docks  and  in  daylight,  it  has  the  appearance  of 
four  squat  walls  without  windows.  But  if  you  take 
the  trouble  to  crawl  around  on  the  river  side,  you  will 
find  two  glazed  loopholes  overlooking  the  water,  one 
on  the  lower  story  and  one  under  the  roof.  There  is 
also,  I  am  told,  a  skylight  or  two  up  above,  but  I  can't 
swear  to  that.  By  night,  the  one  bright  glimmer  you 
see  on  getting  near  it  shines  through  the  door.  This 
stands  open  in  the  summer,  or,  rather,  the  upper  half 
of  it  does,  for  it  is  made  in  two  parts,  like  the  old 
Dutch  ones  you  see  in  the  pictures ;  but  in  winter  time 
an  agreeable  light  shines  through  the  four  small  holes 
arranged  along  the  top  half.  A  calico  curtain  blows 
in  and  out  of  this  door  on  such  nights  as  we  have  been 
having  lately;  for  Mother  Merry  likes  a  fire,  and  the 
little  stove  she  sits  at,  netting,  heats  the  one  big  room 
below  to  smotheration,and  the  men  won't  stand  it. 
If  this  curtain  blows  high  you  can,  if  you  're  nervy 
enough,  get  a  peep  at  the  inside,  stewing  with  a  hor 
rible  smell  of  fish,  and  bright  with  kerosene  lamps 
and  the  busy  little  stove.  You  won't  see  much  fur 
niture,  for  Mother  Merry  don't  spend  her  money  on 
anything  she  can  do  without;  but  there  is  a  table  or 
two  and  some  chairs,  and  in  one  of  the  corners  a  door 
which  sometimes  stands  half  open,  but  more  often  is 
to  be  seen  tight  shut.  Behind  this  door  whatever 
mischief  the  house  hides  takes  place.  You  can  tell  this 
from  the  old  woman's  eye,  which  is  always  on  it;  and, 
if  you  know  her  well,  it  is  quite  enough  to  watch  her 


THE  MONOGRAM  1 67 

twitching  underlip  to  satisfy  yourself  as  to  whether 
the  mischief  is  big  or  little ;  prosperous  in  its  character, 
or  of  a  kind  likely  to  damage  her  reputation  and  empty 
her  well-stuffed  pockets.  She  is  no  fool,  this  old 
Mother  Merry ;  and  though  she  has  not  much  of  what 
we  men  call  nerve,  and  trembles  like  a  leaf  at  the  ap 
proach  of  a  policeman,  she  has  more  control  than  you 
would  think  over  the  tough  crowd  of  boatmen  who 
knock  their  heads  together  in  that  little  room.  I 
have  even  been  told  that  she  is  feared  quite  beyond 
all  reason  by  the  few  stray  females  who  find  a  refuge 
in  the  scanty  garret  rooms,  which  have  given  to  this 
shanty  the  highfalutin  name  of  lodging-house.  What 
harm  goes  on  under  her  twinkling  red  eye,  I  do  not 
know.  I  have  been  in  the  place  altogether  three 
times,  but  have  never  yet  found  out  what  that  door 
conceals.  The  men  play  at  some  sort  of  game  around 
a  large  table,  on  which  black  bottles  and  thick  glasses 
take  up  as  much  room  as  the  cards;  but  I  do  not 
think  it  is  gambling  only  which  makes  it  next  to  im 
possible  for  a  fellow  to  get  in  there  at  night.  There 
is  something  else — but  I  won't  stop  over  that.  It  is 
a  hell  of  a  place,  as  you  can  judge,  and  unless  one's 
business  led  him  there,  scarcely  a  spot  where  a  man 
would  brag  of  being  found. 

"One  night — the  night  I  am  telling  you  about — I 
got  in,  but  got  in  late.  There  was  some  sort  of  pass 
word  necessary,  and  I  had  a  hard  time  getting  hold 
of  it,  and  a  harder  time  yet  making  old  Mother  Merry 
hear  it  when  I  had  got  hold  of  it.  Yet  she  is  n't  deaf 
and  does  n't  pretend  to  be.  This  trouble  over,  and  the 
door  passed,  I  encountered  another  check.  A  man 


1 68  THE  MAN 

was  there;  a  slouchy,  disreputable  wretch,  and  it  was 
he,  instead  of  Mother  Merry,  who  was  watching  that 
mysterious  door,  which  for  once  stood  far  enough  ajar 
for  one  room  to  share  the  smells,  sights,  and  uproar 
of  the  other.  I  did  not  like  this  man.  I  did  not  like 
the  way  he  stood,  or  looked,  or  held  his  tongue.  There 
was  something  peculiar  and  unnatural  in  his  whole 
manner,  and  I  glanced  at  Mother  Merry  to  see  what 
she  thought  of  him. 

"  Evidently  nothing  bad;  for  she  moved  about  quite 
comfortable-like,  and  did  not  so  much  as  look  at  the 
door  I  had  never  before  seen  her  let  out  of  her  sight 
a  moment. 

" '  Who  can  he  be  ? '  I  naturally  asked  myself,  a  little 
put  out  by  my  doubts;  for  my  business  would  soon 
take  me  into  the  inner  room,  and  I  did  not  like  to 
imagine  myself  under  his  eye. 

"'Drink!'  I  suddenly  shouted,  to  see  if  I  could 
make  any  impression  on  him. 

"But  I  might  as  well  have  shouted  at  a  hitching- 
post.  Mother  Merry  brought  me  whiskey,  but  the 
man  did  not  budge.  I  began  to  think  of  putting  off 
my  affair  to  a  more  convenient  season,  when  I  was 
taken  with  a  sudden  curiosity  to  see  just  what  he  was 
staring  at. 

"Approaching  gently,  I  looked  over  his  shoulder. 
A  portion  of  the  inside  room  was  all  I  could  see,  but 
in  that  portion  sat  a  man  with  a  red  face  and  a  cruel 
jaw.  It  was  this  face  which  held  the  attention  of  the 
boatman  before  me ;  and  while  I  was  wondering  what 
he  found  in  it  to  hold  him  stock-still  for  so  long,  I 
heard  a  sigh  escape  from  under  the  coarse  jacket  I 


THE  MONOGRAM  169 

dreaded  touching  with  my  own,  and,  much  amazed 
at  this  show  of  feeling  in  a  den  of  such  boiled- down 
filth  and  wickedness,  I  moved  back  to  where  Mother 
Merry  stood,  and  whispered  in  her  ear: 

" '  Who  's  that  man ?  Do  you  know  him?  Has  he 
any  business  here?' 

"Her  gaunt  shoulders  lifted  in  a  shrug — she  is  far 
from  jolly,  cheerful  as  her  name  is — then  she  drew 
near  the  man  and  I  saw  her  touch  him.  At  that,  or 
some  low  words  she  uttered,  he  roused  and  cast  a 
quick  look  about  him,  then  he  pointed  towards  a  door 
on  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"She  answered  by  a  nod,  and  he  moved  off  with  a 
poor  try  at  a  slouchy  gait.  When  I  saw  this  I  knew 
he  was  no  sailor. 

"As  the  door  closed  behind  him,  a  sound  of  women 
screaming  and  scolding  came  from  the  docks,  then  a 
child's  cry  cut  into  the  night,  after  which  there  was 
quiet  in  that  quarter  and  in  the  house,  too.  For 
Mother  Merry,  with  a  scared  look,  jumped  towards 
the  room  where  the  men  were  sitting,  and,  pushing 
her  way  in,  held  up  her  hand  so  as  to  draw  all  eyes. 

" 'The  warning,'  she  cried.  ' It  's  the  cops!  See  if 
you  can  get  out  by  the  window.' 

"One  of  the  men  arose  and  went  to  the  window, 
looked  out,  and  came  crawling  back,  putting  out  a 
light  as  he  did  so. 

"They  're  on  the  water,'  he  whispered;  and, 
whether  I  am  a  fool  or  not,  that  whisper  sent  the 
creeps  up  my  back. 

"Both  front  and  back?'  she  cried.  'That  means 
business;  you  '11  have  to  squeeze  into  the  hole,  boys.' 


I/O  THE  MAN 

"Another  light  went  out. 

"Meanwhile  I  had  crept  to  the  door. 

'  'Ware   there  !     that  fellow  's  trying  to  sneak,' 
shouted  a  voice. 

"  I  drew  back.     Old  Merry  came  to  my  aid. 

"'Don't  be  a  fool,'  she  whispered.  'Stay  here  or 
they  '11  think  you  're  in  with  them  !  ' 

"The  growl  of  some  half-dozen  of  them  brought  the 
warning  home.  I  laughed  and  got  in  line  with  the 
boys,  grumbling  aloud  as  I  did  so: 

' '  Then  they  '11  make  a  mistake.  If  you  are  wanted 
by  the  cops,  I  am,  too.  But  how  about  that  other 
fellow? '  I  whispered,  getting  close  to  Mother  Merry  in 
the  hubbub. 

"She  did  n't  hear  me;  she  was  telling  how  some 
thing  was  to  be  done.  Then  another  light  went  out. 
The  place  now  was  in  nearly  total  darkness. 

"'Hush!'  came  from  the  doorway  where  the  cur 
tain  blew  in  and  out. 

'"Hush  and  quick,'  came  in  hoarse  echo  from 
Mother  Merry's  quivering  lips. 

"  Suddenly  the  room  was  empty.  Of  the  half-dozen 
drunken  figures  I  had  seen  moving  about  me  the  min 
ute  before,  not  one  was  in  sight.  I  heard  a  creak, 
then  a  scuffle,  and  then  a  bang,  and  the  room  stood 
empty.  Only  a  few  bottles  and  a  pack  or  two  of 
cards  were  left  on  the  dirty  top  of  the  old  pine  table, 
as  proof  that  a  tough  crowd  had  been  there  raising 
Cain.  The  old  woman  cleared  the  table  and  shoved 
the  lot  into  a  cupboard;  then  she  sat  down.  Never 
have  I  seen  a  woman  so  steady  and  at  the  same  time 
so  frightened. 


THE  MONOGRAM  I /I 

'"There  is  room  for  one  more,'  she  quickly  said, 
pointing  to  where  the  men  had  disappeared.  'It's 
over  the  water,  and  the  floor  is  full  of  holes,  but  the 
police  have  n't  got  on  to  it  yet.  Will  you  go  down? ' 

" '  I  was  n't  with  the  crowd,'  I  told  her. 

'"That  won't  help  you.     You  're  in  the  house — 
Ah!' 

' '  It  was  almost  a  cry  she  gave ;  the  door  to  the  up 
per  rooms  had  opened  and  the  sailor  who  had  struck 
me  as  such  a  peculiar  chap  stood  in  the  room  before 
us.  'I  forgot,'  she  wailed  out.  ' What  am  I  to  do 
with  him?' 

"The  sailor,  who  was  no  sailor,  stared  straight  be 
fore  him,  as  well  he  might,  for  he  had  left  a  lighted 
room  and  found  a  dark  one.  Yet  in  that  stare  there 
was  a  look  of  pain  easily  to  be  seen  by  the  light  thrown 
out  by  the  red-hot  stove.  He  did  n't  mind  Mother 
Merry's  cry.  He  had  something  else  on  his  mind. 
He  looked  like  a  man  suddenly  wakened  up,  and  I 
had  a  strange  idea  that  his  dreams,  if  he  had  had  them, 
held  him  just  then  in  a  closer  grip  than  the  facts  he 
had  come  among. 

"'Is  it  so  late?'  he  sighed;  and  I  started,  for  the 
voice  was  the  voice  of  a  gentleman. 

"The  words,  and  the  way  he  said  them,  seemed  to 
bring  fresh  trouble  to  Mother  Merry. 

"'Oh,  the  ill-luck!'  she  wailed.  'The  cops  are  at 
the  door.  The  place  has  been  threatened  for  a  month, 
and  to-night  they  are  closing  round.  Will  you  face 
them,  or  shall  I  open  the  trap  again — Oh,  don't!'  she 
groaned,  as  he  gave  a  sudden  reel  backward;  'it 
makes  me  feel  wicked.  I  ought  to  have  warned  you.' 


1/2  THE  MAN 

' '  It  would  have  made  no  difference,'  he  said.  '  I 
should  still  have  gone  up.  Help  me,  if  you  can, 
and  remember  what  you  have  sworn.  To-morrow 
I  will  send  money.  O  God!  O  God!  to  leave 
now ' 

'"You  cannot  leave.  Hark,  that  is  the  second 
signal!  In  another  moment  they  will  be  here.  Do 
you  want  to  fall  into  their  hands  ? ' 

"I  had  rather  die.  Quick!  Some  place!  Money 
is  no  object.  Let  that  fellow  I  see  over  there  help 
me.  He  looks  as  if  he  was  n't  afraid  of  the  police. 
Let  him  change  togs  with  me.' 

' '  I  am  a  private  detective,'  I  whispered,  going  very 
close  to  him  in  the  dark.  '  My  name  is  Yox,  and  you 
will  find  papers  to  support  the  name  and  business  in 
my  coat  pocket.  They  may  hold  you  for  a  day,  but 
no  longer,'  and  I  handed  over  my  coat. 

" '  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  confide  my  name  to  you 
with  the  same  ease  I  do  this  coat,'  he  replied,  as  he 
threw  me  the  garment  which  had  so  disfigured  him. 
'  But  my  name  is  the  secret  I  would  defend  with  my 
life.  Say  that  you  are  Benjamin  Jones.' 

" '  First  fork  over  the  cash  which  you  say  is  no  ob 
ject  to  you!'  I  cried. 

"'You  must  trust  me  for  that,'  he  answered.  'If 
I  get  off  without  discovery  you  will  receive  a  hundred 
dollars  at  your  address  within  the  week.  I  have  left 
all  I  had  above.' 

"'Chaff!'  I  muttered. 
' '  He  will  pay,'  Mother  Merry  assured  me. 

'"Then  here  's  my  cap,'  I  grumbled,  not  any  too 
well  pleased. 


THE  MONOGRAM  1/3 

"He  took  it,  and  though  it  was  a  common  one 
enough,  he  looked  like  another  man  in  it. 

" '  Support  me  in  my  character! '  he  ordered,  just  as 
that  blowing  curtain  was  caught  and  held  back  by  a 
hand  from  without  and  the  face  of  a  policeman  looked 
in. 

'"Hey,  there!  lamps  up!'  was  the  order.  We  got 
a  light  flashed  over  us  from  the  doorway. 

"The  man  at  my  side  advanced  to  meet  it,  and  I 
saw  him  talking  with  the  officer  who  had  pushed  his 
head  through  the  upper  half  of  the  door.  Then  every 
thing  about  and  before  me  became  mixed  in  the  rush 
the  police  made  from  every  side,  and  I  failed  to  see 
anything  again  for  some  minutes.  When  a  minute's 
quiet  came  about  again,  and  I  had  the  chance  to  use 
my  eyes,  I  did  not  find  the  man  to  whom  I  had  lent 
my  coat  and  my  name.  He  had  been  allowed  to  slip 
away. 

"  But  I  had  no  such  luck.  The  place  being  turned 
over,  and  only  a  few  women  found,  they  turned  on 
me.  But  I  was  game,  and  was  soon  able  to  show  them 
I  was  one  of  their  own  sort.  At  which  there  naturally 
came  the  question  as  to  who  the  other  fellow  was. 
But  I  did  not  help  them  out  on  this,  and  it  ended  in 
my  being  taken  to  Jefferson  Market  with  the  rest. 

"  We  all  got  off  next  day  and  without  much  trouble. 
I  have  always  thought  that  fellow  paid  the  fines;  at 
all  events,  one  week  from  that  day  I  found  an  envelope 
addressed  to  me,  lying  on  my  desk  at  the  office.  It 
contained  bills  to  the  amount  agreed  upon. 

"Now,  Mr.  Underbill,  who  was  this  man?  I  have 
been  asking  myself  that  question  ever  since  I 


174  THE  MAN 

pocketed  his  money.  The  fellow  who  can  pay  out 
hundreds  like  that  is  a  man  to  know." 

I  waited  for  the  answer,  which  was  slow  in  coming. 
But  then  Underbill  was  always  slow.  When  he  did 
speak  it  was  lazily  enough. 

"  Did  n't  you  say  you  had  some  clue  to  his  identity; 
a  match-box  or  something  of  that  kind,  which  you 
found  in  one  of  the  pockets  of  the  coat  he  gave  you? " 

"Yes,  I  have  that." 

"And  that  there  were  initials  on  it  which  you  had 
not  been  able  to  decipher?" 

"Oh,  yes,  initials;  but  what  can  a  fellow  make  out 
of  initials  ? ' ' 

"  Not  much,  of  course.  Have  you  that  match-box 
with  you  ? ' ' 

"I  just  have.  I  sport  it  everywhere.  I  think  so 
much  of  it  I  have  even  talked  of  having  my  name 
changed  to  fit  the  letters  of  this  monogram." 

"Let  me  see  it,  will  you?" 

The  fellow  drew  it  out. 

A  minute  passed,  then  Underhill  drawled  out: 

"It  's  not  as  easy  to  make  out  as  I  expected.  Will 
you  let  me  compare  it  with  a  collection  I  have  in  a 
book  here?  I  may  have  its  mate." 

"Sure,  sir." 

Underhill  came  my  way.  The  sudden  heat  into 
which  I  was  thrown  by  this  unexpected  move  acted 
as  a  double  warning.  I  must  beware  of  self -betrayal, 
and  I  must  take  care  not  to  give  away  my  presence 
to  the  sharp-eyed,  sharp-eared  man  whose  perspicac 
ity  I  had  reason  to  dread.  I  therefore  rose  as  quietly 
as  possible  and  met  Underbill's  entering  figure  with 


THE  MONOGRAM  175 

a  silent  inquiry,  nicely  adjusted  to  the  interest  I  was 
supposed  to  feel  in  the  matter.  He  was  no  less  care 
ful,  but  there  was  a  sparkle  in  his  eye  as  he  handed 
over  to  my  inspection  the  match-box  he  had  just 
taken  from  Yox,  which  contradicted  his  air  of  uncon 
sciousness,  and  led  me  to  inspect  with  great  interest 
the  monogram  he  displayed  to  my  notice.  It  was  by 
no  means  a  simple  one,  as  you  will  see  by  the  sub 
joined  copy. 


As  I  studied  it,  Under  hill  wrote  on  a  sheet  of  paper 
lying  open  on  the  table : 

"I   have   seen   that   match-box   a   dozen   times." 
Then,  separating   the  letters  of   the   monogram,  he 
wrote  them  out  in  a  string,  thus : 
L  L  D  G 

"  Leighton  Gillespie? "  I  inquired  in  a  kind  of  sound 
less  whisper. 

"Leighton  Le  Droit  Gillespie,"  he  wrote. 

It  was  the  name  with  which  my  own  mind  was  full ; 
the  name  with  which  it  had  been  full  ever  since  the 
inquest. 


XVIII 

THE    PHIAL 

THE  moment  was  not  propitious  for  a  fuller  under 
standing  between  us.  Sam  lowered  the  light 
and  sauntered  back  into  the  outer  room,  remarking 
lazily  to  Yox: 

"  If  I  were  you  I  would  n't  sport  this  thing  around 
too  openly.  If  judiciously  kept  out  of  sight  it  may 
bring  you  in  another  hundred  some  day." 

"  How  's  that?     You  know  those  initials? " 

"Know  Louis  Le  Due  Gracieux  ?  Well,  rather. 
But  as  long  as  you  have  not  the  honour,  keep  quiet, 
lie  low,  and  await  events.  That  is,  if  you  care 
about  the  money.  What  have  you  done  with  the 
blouse  ?  " 

"Put  it  away  in  cotton." 

"  Oh,  I  see.     Well,  put  the  match-box  with  it." 

"I  will." 

"  Have  another  cigar?  " 

"Thank  you.  I  don't  often  have  such  a  snap. 
Well,  what  is  it,  sir? " 

"Oh,  nothing." 

"  I  thought  you  looked  as  if  you  wanted  something 
from  me." 

"I?     Not  the  least  in  the  world." 

Silence,  then  a  lazy  movement  on  the  part  of  Sam 
176 


THE  PHIAL  177 

which  disturbed  something  on  the  table  at  which  they 
were  sitting.  The  small  noise  had  the  effect  of  elicit 
ing  another  word  from  Sam. 

"  I  thought  your  story  had  more  to  it  when  I  heard 
it  last.  Did  n't  you  say  something  about  a  small 
parcel  which  this  mysterious  man  took  out  of  his 
pocket  before  handing  over  his  blouse?" 

"Perhaps;  but  that  was  n't  anything.  I  wonder 
you  remember  it." 

Long  silence  on  the  part  of  Sam. 

"I  never  forget  anything,"  he  observed  at  last. 
"  Was  it  a  big  parcel  or  a  little?" 

"  It  was  a  small  one." 

"How  small?" 

"  Oh,  a  thing  a  man  could  hold  in  his  fist.  Why  do 
you  ask  about  it?" 

"Whim.  I  am  trying  to  wake  myself  up.  What 
was  the  shape  of  this  parcel?" 

"  Bless  me  if  I  've  given  two  thoughts  to  it." 

"You  '11  get  that  blessing,  Yox;  for  you  've  given 
more  than  two  thoughts  to  it." 

"I?" 

"  Yes,  or  why  should  you  have  described  it  as  min 
utely  as  you  did  the  other  night? " 

"Did  I?" 

"  Undoubtedly;  I  can  even  recall  your  words.  You 
said  the  fellow  was  pretty  well  shaken  up  for  a  man 
of  his  size  and  appearance,  and  after  handing  you 
the  blouse  he  caught  it  back  and  took  something  out 
of  one  of  the  pockets.  It  looked  like  one  of  those 
phials  the  homoeopaths  use.  You  see,  you  were  in 
clined  to  be  more  dramatic  on  that  occasion  than  on 


1/8  THE  MAN 

this.  Indeed,  I  have  been  a  little  disappointed  in 
you  to-night." 

"  Oh,  well !  a  fellow  cannot  always  cut  a  figure.  I  '11 
try  to  remember  the  bottle  next  time  I  tell  the  story." 

Sam  did  not  answer;  I  heard  him  yawn  instead. 
But  I  did  not  yawn;  that  word  "  phial,"  had  effect 
ually  roused  me. 

"  As  you  say,  it  is  a  small  matter,"  Underhill  finally 
drawled.  "So  is  the  straw  that  turns  the  current. 
He  was  a  philosopher  who  said,  '  The  little  rift  within 
the  lute,'  etc.,  etc."  Then  suddenly,  and  with  a  wide 
awake  air  which  evidently  startled  his  companion: 
"Do  you  suppose,  Yox,  that  Mother  Merry  runs  an 
opium -joint  in  those  upper  rooms?" 

The  answer  he  received  evidently  startled  him. 

"She  may.  I  had  n't  thought  of  it  before,  but  I 
remember,  now,  that  when  those  women  were  brought 
down  there  was  amongst  them  one  who  certainly  was 
under  the  influence  of  something  worse  than  liquor. 
Faugh!  I  see  her  yet.  But  it  was  n't  opium  he  had 
in  that  bottle;  that  is,  not  the  opium  which  is  used 
for  smoking.  The  firelight  shone  full  upon  it  as  he 
passed  it  from  one  pocket  to  another,  and  I  saw  dis 
tinctly  the  sparkle  of  some  dark  liquid." 

Sam  Underhill,  who  seemed  to  have  fallen  back 
into  his  old  condition  of  sleepy  interest,  mumbled 
something  about  his  having  been  able  to  see  a  good 
deal,  considering  the  darkness  of  the  place.  To 
which  his  now  possibly  suspicious  visitor  replied : 

"I  would  have  seen  more  if  I  had  known  so  much 
was  to  be  got  out  of  it.  Can  you  give  me  a  point  or 
two  as  to  how  I  'm  to  get  that  extra  hundred?" 


THE  PHIAL  I/g 

Whereupon  Sam  retorted,  "Not  to-night,"  in  a 
way  to  close  the  conversation. 

As  soon  as  the  man  had  left  I  rushed  in  upon  Sam 
without  ceremony.  He  was  still  sitting  at  the  table 
smoking,  and  received  me  with  a  look  of  mingled 
amusement  and  anxiety. 

"  How  did  the  comedy  strike  you?"  he  asked. 

I  attempted  a  shrug  which  failed  before  his  imper 
turbable  nonchalance. 

"  How  did  it  strike  you? "  he  persisted. 

"  As  cleverly  carried  out,  but  not  so  cleverly  that  the 
fellow  will  not  suspect  it  to  be  a  comedy." 

"Oh,  well!  So  long  as  he  does  not  associate  the 
right  name  with  those  four  initials  we  are  safe.  And 
he  won't;  I  know  Yox  well  enough  for  that." 

"Then  you  know  him  for  a  fool.  Louis  Gracieux! 
Who  is  Louis  Gracieux?  Besides,  the  phial — why, 
the  whole  town  is  talking  about  a  phial " 

"  I  know,  but  not  about  a  match-box  that  is  worth 
another  hundred  dollars  to  the  man  holding  it.  Yox 
is  n't  a  member  of  the  regular  police;  he  's  in  busi 
ness  for  himself,  which  means  he  's  in  it  for  what  he 
can  make.  Now,  he  knows — or,  rather,  I  flatter  my 
self  that  I  have  made  him  see — that  there  is  more  to 
be  got  out  of  this  matter  by  circumspection  and  a 
close  tongue  than  by  bragging  of  his  good  luck  and 
giving  every  ass  about  him  a  chance  to  chew  upon 
those  letters.  Oh,  he  '11  keep  quiet  now,  for  a  week 
or  two  at  least.  After  that  I  cannot  promise." 

"  Do  you  think  his  version  of  this  affair  reliable? " 

"Absolutely.  He  would  have  exaggerated  more 
if  he  had  been  forcing  an  invention  upon  us." 


180  THE  MAN 

I  sat  down  and,  regarding  Underbill  across  the 
table,  remarked  somewhat  pointedly : 

"  Now  that  the  name  has  been  mentioned  between 
us,  we  can  talk  more  openly.  What  date  have  you 
been  able  to  give  to  Yox's  adventure?  You  surely 
have  not  failed  to  get  from  him  the  day  he  went  down 
to  Mother  Merry's  ?  " 

Sam  rose — he  who  detested  rising — and,  going  to  a 
little  side  table  where  a  pile  of  newspapers  lay,  he 
pulled  off  the  top  one  and  laid  it  open  before  me,  tak 
ing  care,  however,  to  stretch  his  arm  across  the  upper 
margin  in  a  way  to  cover  up  effectually  the  date. 

"Read,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  paragraph. 

I  followed  his  finger  and  read  out  a  brief  account 
of  the  descent  which  had  been  made  on  Mother  Mer 
ry's,  and  a  description  of  the  proceedings  which  had 
ended  in  the  release  of  the  women  involved. 

"Now  take  a  look  at  the  date,"  he  went  on,  lifting 
his  arm. 

I  did  so;  it  was  a  memorable  one, — the  evening  of 
Mr.  Gillespie's  death. 

"The  affair  at  Mother  Merry's  took  place  on  the 
preceding  night,"  commented  Sam.  There  was  no 
languishing  note  in  his  voice  now. 

I  sat  silent;  when  I  did  speak  it  was  plainly  and 
decidedly. 

"  I  see  what  you  mean.  You  think  he  went  to  that 
place  to  get  the  acid." 

Sam  puffed  away  at  his  cigar. 

"It  has  been  a  mystery  to  everyone  where  that 
acid  came  from,"  I  continued;  "a  mystery  which 
has  evidently  baffled  the  police.  If  a  druggist  in  the 


THE  PHIAL  l8l 

whole  range  of  this  great  city  had  lately  sold  a  phial 
of  this  poison  to  anyone  answering  the  description 
given  of  these  brothers,  we  would  have  heard  from 
him  before  now.  Equally  so  if  a  doctor  had  pre 
scribed  it." 

"A  second  Daniel  come  to  judgment,"  quoth  Sam, 
sententiously. 

''And  now  we,  through  chance  or  special  provid 
ence,  perhaps,  have  stumbled  upon  a  clue  as  to  how 
this  deadly  drug  may  have  entered  the  Gillespie 
family." 

"  I  regret  to  agree  with  you,  but  that  is  the  way  it 
looks-  But,  Outhwaite,  you  must  remember — and 
as  a  lawyer  you  will — that  a  long  and  tangled  road 
lies  between  mere  supposition  and  the  establishment 
of  a  fact  like  this.  This  phial,  so  carefully  transferred 
from  a  pocket  where  a  seemingly  more  valuable  article 
lay  hid,  has  not  been  identified  as  holding  poison, 
only  as  holding  a  liquid.  Much  less  has  it  been  proven 
to  be  the  bottle  found  under  the  clock  in  the  Gilles 
pie  dining-room." 

"All  very  true." 

"Yet  this  fellow's  story  of — well,  let  us  say,  Louis 
Gracieux'  appearance  and  conduct  in  this  more  than 
doubtful  place,  warrants  us  in  thinking  the  worst  of 
his  errand." 

I  felt  the  force  of  this  suggestion. 

"Quite  true."  I  assented.  Then,  in  some  agita 
tion,  for  my  thoughts  were  divided  between  the  relief 
which  a  knowledge  of  this  night's  occurrences  might 
bring  to  Hope  and  the  terrible  results  to  the  man  him 
self,  I  went  on  to  say: 


1 82  THE  MAN 

"His  little  girl — you  never  saw  his  little  girl,  Sam. 
Well,  she  's  a  fairy-like  creature,  and  the  last  time  I 
saw  her  she  had  her  arms  about  his  neck." 

"Don't  talk  about  children,"  he  hastily  objected. 
"You  '11  make  a  muff  of  me,"  and  then  I  remembered 
he  had  a  great  weakness  for  children.  "  I  had  rather 
you  'd  talk  about  Miss  Meredith.  Nothing  but  the 
interest  I  take  in  the  peculiar  position  held  by  this 
young  lady  gives  me  the  requisite  courage  to  stir  in 
this  matter.  I  have  known  those  boys  too  long  and 
too  well;  that  is,  I  have  drunk  too  many  bottles  with 
George  and  sat  out  too  many  nights  in  full  view  of 
Alfred's  handsome  figure,  stretched  out  in  the  mys 
terious  apathy  I  have  alluded  to.  With  Leighton  I 
have  fewer  associations  ;  but  I  have  seen  enough  of 
him  to  know  perfectly  well  the  match-box  which  Yox 
handed  out." 

"Do  you  suppose  there  was  anything  in  those 
pockets  besides  the  match-box ;  anything,  I  mean,  cal 
culated  to  give  away  the  wearer  of  that  foul  blouse?" 

"No.  If  there  had  been;  if,  in  other  words,  he 
had  found  anything  there  which  suggested  a  member 
of  the  Gillespie  family,  he  would  never  have  aired 
the  matter  in  the  presence  of  their  friends.  He  would 
have  gone  at  once  to  the  police,  or  endeavoured  to 
make  such  capital  out  of  it  as  such  a  find  would 
suggest." 

"Then  you  really  think  he  does  not  know  that  the 
tools  he  is  playing  with  have  mighty  sharp  edges?" 

"  I  am  confident  he  does  not." 

"That  is  a  relief;  yet  he  cannot  remain  in  such  ig 
norance  long  if  I  call  him  to  my  assistance." 


THE  PHIAL  183 

"That  depends." 

"How,  depends?" 

"  Upon  what  you  want  him  to  do." 

For  this  I  had  no  answer.  My  plans  were  as  vague 
as  the  wandering  smoke- wreaths  curling  upward  at 
that  instant  from  my  neglected  cigar. 

"You  have  never  liked  Leighton,"  I  remarked,  in 
the  hope  of  adjusting  my  thoughts  before  entering 
upon  the  more  serious  portion  of  this  conversation. 
"Neither  have  I,  since  surprising  a  very  strange  ex 
pression  on  his  face  the  night  of  his  father's  death." 

"Yet  three-quarters  of  the  people  who  knew  him 
would  tell  you  that  he  is  a  good  man,  a  very  good 
man,  the  best  of  the  three,  by  far." 

"  Notwithstanding  his  low  associates?  "  I  ventured. 

"Notwithstanding  everything.  People  are  so  de 
ceived  by  a  few  words  uttered  in  prayer-meeting,  that 
their  judgment  is  apt  to  be  blunted  to  the  real  charac 
ter  of  a  man  like  Leighton  Gillespie." 

"He  must  be  an  odd  one,"  I  observed.  "The 
lights  and  shades  of  such  a  nature  are  past  finding 
out.  In  appearance  and  manner  he  is  a  gentleman, 
yet  if  Yox's  story  is  true  he  finds  no  difficulty  in  visit 
ing  the  worst  of  places  under  circumstances  and  in  a 
garb  which  bespeaks  a  personal  interest  in  them. 
The  nature  of  that  interest  we  have  dared  to  infer  from 
the  part  played  in  his  visit  by  the  mysterious  phial. 
But  how  account  for  such  instincts,  such  murderous 
impulses  in  a  man  brought  up  as  he  has  been?  The 
motive  must  have  been  a  serious  one  to  drive  a  man 
of  his  connections  into  crime.  Can  you  name  it? 
Was  it  the  need  of  money,  a  craving  for  perfect 


1 84  THE  MAN 

liberty  to  pursue  his  own  strange  courses  unchecked, 
or  just  the  malice  of  a  revengeful  spirit  cherishing 
some  rankling  grudge,  which  only  the  death  of  its 
object  could  satisfy?" 

"Do  not  ask  me.  I  'm  not  going  to  supply  facts 
and  reasons,  too,  in  this  matter.  What!  going? " 

"Yes,  I  never  don  my  thinking-cap  to  any  pur 
pose  save  in  privacy  and  under  the  influences 
emanating  from  my  own  room  and  its  familiar 
surroundings." 

"Very  good — you  shall  seek  such  inspiration  as 
is  to  be  found  there  in  just  another  moment.  But 
first  let  me  give  you  a  little  further  insight  into  the 
character  of  the  man  we  are  discussing.  This  is 
something  I  saw  myself:  One  day  last  fall  I  was 
going  down  West  Broadway  when  I  came  upon  Leigh- 
ton  Gillespie  standing  near  an  elegant  turnout,  talk 
ing  with  an  ill-shod  and  bedraggled  woman.  As 
philanthropy  is  his  fad  and  occurrences  of  this  kind 
a  common  affair  with  him,  I  was  passing  by  with  no 
further  display  of  interest  than  an  inward  sneer,  when 
I  noted  his  expression  and  stopped  short,  if  not  from 
sympathy,  at  least  in  some  curiosity  as  to  the  woman 
who  could  draw  it  forth.  Outhwaite,  she  was  a  wild- 
eyed,  panting  creature,  with  chestnut -coloured  hair 
and  nervously  working  lips;  not  beautiful,  not  even 
interesting — tome.  But  he — well!  I  have  seen  few 
faces  look  as  his  did  then,  and  when  she  started  to 
run — as  she  presently  did,  he  caught  at  the  muddy 
shawl  she  wore  and  pulled  her  back  as  if  his  very  life 
depended  upon  restraining  her  at  his  side. 

ill  even  saw  him  take  that  shawl  in  his  hand — 


THE  PHIAL  185 

such  a  shawl!  I  would  not  have  touched  it  for  a 
champagne  supper,  and  there  have  been  times  when 
he  has  shown  himself  more  squeamish  on  some  sub 
jects  than  I.  But  he  was  not  squeamish  now — far 
from  it,  for  he  not  only  held  that  shawl,  but  fumbled 
with  it,  almost  clung  to  it,  talking  all  the  while  with 
voluble  persistency.  At  last  he  asked  her  some  quest 
ions  which  brought  out  a  passionate  refusal.  But 
if  discouraged,  he  did  not  show  it;  on  the  contrary, 
he  continued  his  plea  with  increasing  earnestness, 
and  finally  pointed  to  his  carriage.  She  gave  it  one 
look  and  shrank  back  with  a  gesture  of  fear ;  then  she 
grew  steadier  and  her  head  fell  forward  on  her  breast. 
He  went  on  pleading  with  her;  and  then  I  saw  a 
strange  sight.  With  an  air  such  as  only  a  swell  like 
himself  is  capable  of  assuming,  he  signalled  to  his 
driver  to  draw  up  at  the  curbstone  before  him.  Then, 
as  he  might  hand  in  one  of  the  four  hundred,  he  handed 
her  in  and  took  his  seat  beside  her.  Not  a  look  to 
the  right  nor  left, — he  was  simply  the  perfect  gentle 
man;  and,  obnoxious  as  he  had  always  been  to  me 
up  to  that  hour,  I  could  not  but  respect  his  manner 
if  not  himself.  It  was  admirable,  and  so  was  that  of 
the  man  who  sat  upon  the  box.  Though  the  latter 
must  have  cringed  when  that  disreputable  foot  struck 
the  step  and  what  might  be  called  a  bundle  of  rags 
entered  among  his  pearl  satin  cushions,  he  did  not  turn 
a  hair  or  lose  a  jot  of  that  serene  absorption  in  his  own 
affairs  which  characterises  all  the  Gillespie  coachmen. 
I  watched  him  expressly  to  see.  A  valuable  fellow 
that,  for  a  master  of  the  eccentric  tastes  of  Leighton 
Gillespie!  " 


1 86  THE  MAN 

"You  interest  me,"  said  I.  "  Did  you  watch  them 
drive  off?" 

"Yes,  and  stood  there  staring  till  they  were  half 
down  the  block,  for  she  had  not  accepted  the  situa 
tion  with  the  same  ease  as  himself,  and  I  felt  that 
something  would  happen.  And  there  did.  Before 
the  polished  panels  were  lost  to  my  sight,  the  door 
burst  open  and  I  saw  her  wild  figure  jump  out  and 
plunge  away  in  the  direction  of  the  river.  This  time 
he  made  no  attempt  to  follow  her;  the  carriage  rolled 
on  and  he  with  it.  Nor  did  he  do  what  I  would  have 
done, — let  the  door  stand  open  till  the  air  of  that  car 
riage  had  been  purged  of  its  late  unwholesome  occu 
pant.  Altogether,  it  was  an  odd  experience.  What 
do  you  make  out  of  it,  Outhwaite?" 

"  He  's  a  fellow  who  will  bear  studying.  Is  he  al 
ways  so  respectful  to  the  paupers  he  befriends?" 

Sam  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  have  related  my  sole  experience  with  Leighton 
Gillespie  in  his  role  of  philanthropist.  My  other 
memories  of  him  suggest  simply  the  millionaire's  son." 


'(SAW    HER   WILD    FIGURE    JUMP   OUT    AND    PLUNGE    AWAY    IN    THE 
DIRECTION  OF  THE   RIVER" 


XIX 

I    MAKE    MY    FIRST    MOVE 

TO  attempt  to  fathom  such  a  nature  as  this  leads  to 
little  but  mental  confusion.  Before  I  had  spent 
a  half-hour  in  trying  to  untangle  the  knotty  problem 
offered  by  Leighton  Gillespie's  opposing  character 
istics,  I  decided  to  follow  the  example  of  my  friend 
Underbill,  and  keep  to  facts. 

These  in  themselves  were  startling  enough  to  occupy 
my  mind  and  convince  me  absolutely  of  Leighton's 
guilt.  But  this  was  not  convincing  Miss  Mere 
dith.  Probabilities,  possibilities  even,  which  might 
satisfy  me,  would  count  for  but  little  with  her.  With 
her  nice  sense  of  justice,  she  would  demand  a  positive 
and  unbroken  chain  of  evidence  before  she  would 
allow  herself  to  acknowledge  the  guilt  of  the  man 
whose  innocence  I  presumed  to  challenge,  and  this 
clear  and  unbroken  chain  I  did  not  have.  How,  then, 
could  I  strengthen  the  evidence  just  obtained?  Not 
by  showing  motive.  There  seemed  to  be  no  motive. 
To  be  sure,  Leighton  was  in  debt, — so  were  they  all, — 
and  he  was  known  to  have  quarrelled  bitterly  with 
his  father  more  than  once.  But  these  were  not  new 
facts,  nor  were  they  sufficiently  condemnatory  to 
settle,  even  in  her  mind,  the  torturing  question  em 
bodied  in  that  one  word  already  alluded  to:  which? 

187 


1 88  THE  MAN 

Something  of  an  absolutely  criminating  character 
must  be  found  against  this  man;  some  proof  so  direct 
and  unanswerable  that  even  her  scrupulous  conscience 
would  be  satisfied;  something  like  positive  evidence, 
say,  that  he  had  visited  Mother  Merry  for  the  pur 
pose  of  obtaining  in  secret  the  poison  he  dared  not 
buy  openly,  or  that  the  glass  of  sherry  he  poured  out 
for  his  father  had  held  poison  as  well  as  wine. 

As  all  attempts  to  establish  this  latter  fact  had 
proved  abortive ;  as  the  police  had  not  only  failed  to 
prove  that  such  a  mixture  had  been  made,  but  to 
settle  the  exact  medium  by  means  of  which  Mr.  Gil- 
lespie  received  the  poison,  I  turned  my  attention  to 
the  easier  task  and  decided  to  concentrate  my  ener 
gies  upon  establishing  the  fact  that  the  bottle  carried 
from  Mother  Merry's  by  the  would-be  sailor  con 
tained  prussic  acid,  and  that  this  would-be  sailor 
was  positively  the  man  we  supposed  him  to  be, — 
Leighton  Gillespie. 

With  these  facts  indubitably  established,  even 
Miss  Meredith  must  feel  that  the  man  who  could  be 
guilty  of  obtaining  a  deadly  drug  through  such  under 
handed  agency,  and  at  such  a  risk  to  his  reputation, 
must  have  had  a  purpose  in  so  doing  which  could  only 
be  explained  by  the  tragedy  which  took  place  in  his 
home  so  soon  afterwards. 

This  point  reached  in  my  meditations,  I  next  asked 
myself  how  the  necessary  inquiries  could  be  started 
without  risk  to  their  success.  I  could  not  go  openly 
to  Mother  Merry,  or,  rather,  it  would  be  undesirable 
for  me  to  do  so.  If,  as  I  sometimes  suspected,  I  was 
myself  under  surveillance,  I  could  make  no  such 


/  MAKE  MY  FIRST  MOVE  189 

move  without  attracting  the  attention  of  the  detect 
ives  to  a  matter  which  I  hoped  to  keep  a  sacred  secret 
between  Hope  and  myself.  Remember  that  I  was 
not  working  to  bring  the  guilty  to  justice,  but  to  free 
a  pure  heart  from  a  soul-torturing  doubt. 

But  if  I  could  not  go  there  myself,  whom  was  I  to 
send?  What  man  of  my  acquaintance  was  judicious 
enough  to  be  entrusted  with  such  a  message?  Yox? 
I  did  not  like  the  man.  I  looked  upon  him  as  a  very 
shady  individual  and  shrank  with  strong  distaste  from 
further  contact  with  him.  Underbill?  I  laughed 
at  the  suggestion.  Who.  then?  Not  a  single  name 
rose  in  my  mind  till,  by  an  association  of  ideas  not 
entirely  illogical.  I  remembered  the  habits  of  certain 
members  of  the  Salvation  Army,  and  how  easy  it 
would  be  for  one  of  them  to  enter  such  a  vile  haunt 
as  Mother  Merry's  and  interview  the  depraved  beings 
to  be  found  there  without  attracting  the  notice  of 
the  police  or  rousing  the  least  suspicion  as  to  their 
intentions.  But  could  I  reach  such  a  man,  and,  if  I 
could,  would  I  find  him  willing  to  undertake  such  an 
errand  without  understanding  its  full  purport  and 
just  what  use  was  to  be  made  of  the  knowledge  thus 
obtained?  This  seemed  very  doubtful,  and  I  was 
seriously  deliberating  over  my  next  move,  when  my 
mind  flew  straight  from  the  topic  engaging  it  to  that 
memorable  moment  in  my  experience  when,  amid 
the  alarm  and  hurry  following  the  suspicions  ex 
pressed  by  the  physician  called  in  at  Mr.  Gillespie's 
death,  the  glass  fell  from  Hewson's  hand  and  broke 
into  a  hundred  pieces  on  the  dining-room  hearth. 
The  tinkle  made  by  the  shattered  glass,  the  gasp  which 


190  THE  MAN 

escaped  the  old  man's  lips,  all  came  back  to  me,  and 
with  it  the  startling  conviction — strange  that  it  had 
not  struck  me  before ! — that  this  old  and  tried  servant 
of  a  disrupted  household  knew  who  had  tampered 
with  that  glass,  and  by  this  sudden  breaking  of  the 
same  had  sought  to  shield  him.  Now.  if  I  should 
find  out  that  this  man  regarded  Leighton  with  an 
especial  fondness —  But  such  thoughts  were  for 
further  contemplation.  With  a  resolution  born,  per 
haps,  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  I  forced  my  mind 
back  into  its  former  channel  and  resolutely  asked 
myself  how  a  connection  was  to  be  established  be 
tween  Mother  Merry  and  myself.  The  small  confid 
ence  I  have  always  had  in  third  parties,  especially 
when  a  matter  of  delicate  inquiry  was  to  be  pushed, 
made  it  imperative  for  me  to  see  her  myself.  Yet 
how —  Ah!  an  idea.  What  if  I  took  the  bull  by 
the  horns  and  openly  requested  the  assistance  of  the 
police  in  my  adventure  ?  That  would  disarm  suspicion 
and  render  me  independent  of  special  surveillance. 

The  idea  was  a  happy  one,  and,  relieved  by  the 
prospect  it  offered,  I  resigned  myself  to  sleep. 

Next  day  I  went  boldly  to  police  headquarters  and 
asked  for  assistance  in  making  some  inquiries  in  a 
dangerous  quarter  of  the  town.  I  said  that  the  case 
then  before  me  necessitated  some  evidence  which 
could  only  be  gathered  from  a  certain  old  woman 
whose  name  and  place  of  living  I  had  yet  to  learn  by 
judicious  questioning  in  that  quarter  of  the  city 
where  she  had  been  last  seen.  Would  they  give  me 
a  man  to  make  my  projected  tour  safe?  They  would. 
Could  I  have  him  now?  I  could. 


/  MAKE  MY  FIRST  MOVE  19! 

Satisfied  with  the  result  of  my  first  move,  and  more 
than  satisfied  with  the  unintelligent  appearance  of 
the  man  they  picked  out  to  escort  me,  I  made  for 
Mother  Merry's,  but  not  in  a  direct  course  or  with 
any  appearance  of  knowing  where  I  was  going.  I 
tried  several  lodging-houses  and  chatted  across  several 
bars,  and,  noting  the  indifference  with  which  my  thick 
headed  companion  followed  me,  I  really  began  to 
cherish  hopes  of  coming  through  my  task  without 
any  unpleasant  consequences  to  myself.  Sometimes 
he  tried  to  help  me ;  but  as  I  had  given  no  names  and 
confined  myself  to  a  somewhat  vague  description  of 
the  person  I  wanted,  this  help  was  naturally  futile, 
and  I  found  myself  approaching  my  goal  without  any 
seeming  advance  having  been  made.  Should  I  pro 
ceed  at  once  to  the  docks  or  should  I  play  the  fox's 
game  a  little  longer?  As  I  weighed  these  alternatives 
my  eyes  fell  on  a  Salvation  Army  sign,  and  the  idea 
I  had  scouted  the  day  before  returned  to  me  with 
renewed  force. 

Pointing  to  the  windows  across  which  it  was  dis 
played,  I  said  that  here  were  people  who  might  pos 
sibly  tell  me  where  to  find  the  woman  I  sought,  and, 
leaving  the  officer  outside, — he  seemed  quite  content 
to  stay  in  the  fresh  air, — I  went  in  and  respectfully 
approached  the  sweet-faced  woman  I  saw  before  me. 

"I  am  come  for  assistance,"  I  began.  "I  am  in 
search  of  a  woman — "  Here  the  words  died  in  my 
throat.  Opposite  me  and  quite  near  enough  for  me 
to  catch  what  they  were  saying,  I  saw  two  men.  One 
was  a  Salvation  Army  Captain  and  the  other  was 
Leighton  Gillespie. 


XX 

THE    LITTLE    HOUSE    IN    NEW    JERSEY 

THE  surprise  was  great,  but  I  doubt  if  I  betrayed 
the  fact  to  the  unsuspicious  eye  of  the  patient 
lass  who  attended  me. 

"I  wish  to  see  one  of  your  captains,"  I  explained. 
"  I  will  gladly  await  his  convenience." 

"Captain  Smith  will  be  at  liberty  soon,"  she  an 
swered,  going  back  to  her  work. 

I  was  thus  left  to  study  the  face  of  the  man  whom 
at  that  very  moment  I  was  bent  upon  connecting 
with  a  great  crime. 

I  had  not  seen  him  since  that  touching  scene  at  the 
inquest;  and  I  found  him  looking  both  older  and 
sadder.  Perhaps  his  health  was  broken;  perhaps 
there  were  other  and  deeper  reasons  for  the  great 
change  I  saw  in  him. 

I  had  instinctively  withdrawn  a  few  steps  when 
the  lass  left  me  and  stood  in  as  inconspicuous  a  posi 
tion  as  possible,  with  my  face  turned  from  the  light. 
But  I  had  not  retreated  far  enough  to  lose  a  word  of 
the  conversation  going  on  so  near  me. 

They  were  discussing  an  approaching  meeting; 
Leighton  with  deep  interest,  the  Captain  with  an  em 
barrassment  not  often  seen  in  one  of  his  calling.  Lis 
tening,  I  heard  these  words . 

192 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  IN  NEW  JERSEY      193 

"  It  will  be  a  full  one,  won't  it?" 

This  from  Leighton. 

"It  usually  is  on  a  day  like  this,"  was  the  hesitat 
ing  reply. 

"Do  women  come?" 

"More  women  than  men." 

"I  should  like  to  speak  at  the  meeting." 

The  Captain,  with  an  uncomfortable  flush,  fumbled 
with  the  ribbon  on  his  cap,  and  said  nothing.  Leigh- 
ton  repeated  his  request. 

The  Captain  summoned  up  courage. 

"I  am  sorry,  sir,"  he  remarked,  in  an  apologetic 
tone.  "You  have  given  the  Army  much  help,  and 
we  have  listened  to  many  good  words  from  you,  but 
I  have  received  orders  not  to  let  you  speak  again; 
that  is,  from  the  platform." 

A  painful  silence  ensued.  Then  Leighton  re 
marked,  with  a  forced  composure  and  something  more 
than  his  usual  melancholy: 

"  Because  of  the  unhappy  prominence  given  me  by 
the  circumstances  attending  my  father's  death  ? " 

"That,  and  something  else.  I  may  as  well  be  frank, 
sir.  We  have  heard  of  the  little  house,  leased  under 
your  name,  in  New  Jersey." 

"Ah!" 

A  chord  had  been  touched  which  vibrated  keenly 
in  this  mysterious  breast.  I  saw  his  hand  go  to  his 
throat  and  fall  again  quickly.  Meantime  the  Captain 
went  on : 

"We  are  not  frightened  by  sin  and  we  hold  out  our 
hands  to  sinners;  but  we  have  no  use  for  a  man  who 
prays  in  New  York  and  has  his  pleasure  on  the  other 


194  THE  MAN 

side  of  the  North  River.  It  shows  hypocrisy,  sir, 
and  hypocrisy  is  the  enemy  of  religion." 

A  smile,  whose  dark  depths  betrayed  anything  but 
hypocrisy  at  that  moment,  crossed  Leighton's  pale 
lips  as  he  remarked  without  anger  (which  I  could  not 
but  consider  strange  in  a  man  so  openly  attacked) : 

"  That  little  house  is  empty  now.  Has  the  thought 
struck  you  that  my  heart  might  be  so  too  ? ' ' 

The  Captain,  who  evidently  did  not  like  his  task, 
seemed  to  experience  some  difficulty  in  answering; 
but  when  he  had  settled  upon  his  reply,  spoke  both 
clearly  and  with  resolution: 

"  The  house  of  which  you  speak  may  lack  its  oc 
cupant  just  now,  but  everything  goes  to  show  she  is 
always  expected.  Or  why  are  the  lamps  invariably 
lighted  there  at  nightfall,  the  rooms  kept  warm,  and 
the  larder  replenished?  Some  birds  in  flitting  come 
round  again  to  their  forsaken  nest.  Your  bird  may; 
meanwhile  the  nest  remains  ready." 

"Enough!"  The  tone  was  sharp  now,  the  words 
cutting.  "You  do  not  understand  me  nor  my  in 
terest  in  the  poor  and  forsaken.  As  for  my  place 
among  you,  let  it  be  filled  by  whom  you  will.  I 
have  my  own  griefs,  and  they  are  not  light,  and  I  have 
anxieties  such  as  visit  few  men.  A  ban  is  upon  me 
and  upon  all  who  bear  the  name  of  Gillespie.  This 
is  known  to  you  and  possibly  to  every  man  and 
woman  soon  to  assemble  here.  Perhaps  you  do  well 
not  to  submit  me  to  their  curiosity.  But  there  is 
something  you  can  do  for  me — something  which  you 
will  do  for  me,  I  am  sure;  something  which  would 
place  me  under  lasting  obligation  to  you  without 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  IN  NEW  JERSEY      195 

doing  you  or  anyone  else  the  least  harm  in  the  world. 
A  woman  may  come  in  here;  a  woman,  wild-eyed, 
unkempt,  but  with  a  look — I  am  sure  you  will  know 
her.  There  is  an  unearthly  loveliness  in  her  wan 
features.  She  has —  But  what  use  is  there  in 
my  attempting  to  describe  her  ?  If  she  answers 
to  the  name  of  Mille-fleurs — some  persons  call  her 
Millie — she  is  the  woman  I  seek.  Will  you  give  her 
this?"  (He  had  torn  the  edge  off  a  newspaper  lying 
near  and  was  rapidly  writing  on  it  a  few  words.)  "  It 
will  do  no  harm  to  the  cause  for  which  you  are  work 
ing,  and  it  may  save  a  most  unhappy  woman.  Of 
myself  I  make  no  count,  yet  it  might  save  me,  too." 

He  handed  over  to  the  Captain  the  slip  carelessly 
folded.  It  was  received  with  reluctance.  Mr.  Gil- 
lespie,  noting  this,  observed  with  some  agitation: 

"You  are  here  to  do  God's  work.  Sometimes  you 
are  called  upon  to  do  it  blindly  and  without  full 
enlightenment."  And  having  emphasised  this  with 
a  bow  of  remarkable  dignity  he  went  out,  little  real 
ising  that  the  possible  clue  to  his  own  future  fate  lay 
in  the  hands  of  one  he  at  that  moment  passed  without 
a  look. 

"These  are  the  crosses  we  are  called  upon  to  bear," 
spoke  up  the  Salvation  Army  Captain  as  the  door 
closed  upon  the  man  they  had  once  held  in  deepest 
reverence.  "Now,  what  am  I  to  do  with  this?"  he 
added,  turning  over  in  his  hands  the  half-rolled-up 
slip  which  had  just  been  given  into  his  charge. 

Involuntarily  my  hand  went  out  to  it.  It  was  a 
perfectly  unconscious  action  on  my  part,  and  I  blushed 
vividly  when  I  realised  what  I  had  done.  I  had  no 


196  THE  MAN 

authority  here.  I  was  not  even  known  to  the  good 
man  and  woman  before  me. 

The  Captain,  who  may  or  may  not  have  noted  my 
anxiety,  paid  no  heed  either  to  my  unfortunate  self- 
committal  or  to  the  apologetic  question  with  which 
I  endeavoured  to  retrieve  myself. 

Turning  to  the  lass  beside  him,  he  handed  her  the 
slip,  with  the  look  which  a  man  gives  to  a  woman 
on  whose  good  sense  and  judgment  he  has  come  to 
rely. 

"Take  it,  Sally,"  he  said.  "You  will  know  the 
girl  if  she  comes  in,  and,  what  's  more,  you  '11  know 
how  to  manage  the  matter  so  as  to  give  satisfaction 
to  all  the  parties  concerned.  And  now,  sir  ? — "  he 
inquired,  turning  towards  me. 

But  at  this  instant  a  diversion  was  created  by  the 
arrival  of  Detective  Sweetwater,  a  man  for  whose 
presence  I  was  certainly  little  prepared. 

"The  gentleman  who  has  just  gone  out  passed  you 
something,"  he  cried,  approaching  the  lass  without 
ceremony,  though  not  without  respect.  Me  he  did 
not  appear  to  see. 

"The  gentleman  left  a  note  with  us  for  one  of  the 
poor  women  who  sometimes  straggle  in  here,"  was 
her  quiet  response.  "He  is  interested  in  poor  girls; 
tries  to  reclaim  them." 

"I  am  sorry,"  protested  the  detective  "but  I  must 
have  a  glance  at  what  he  wrote.  It  may  be  of  im 
mediate  importance  to  the  police.  Here  is  my  au 
thority,"  he  added  in  lower  tones,  opening  his  coat 
for  a  moment.  "You  know  under  what  suspicion 
the  Gillespie  family  lies.  He  is  a  Gillespie;  let  me 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  IN  NEW  JERSEY      197 

see  those  lines — or,  stay,  read  them  out  yourself — 
that  may  be  better." 

The  young  woman  hesitated,  consulted  the  Captain 
with  a  look,  then  glanced  down  at  the  slip  trembling 
in  her  hand.  It  was  half  unrolled,  and  some  of  its 
words  must  have  met  her  eye. 

"Why  do  you  think  this  has  anything  to  do  with 
the  serious  matter  you  mention?"  she  ventured  to 
ask. 

The  detective  approached  his  mouth  to  her  ear, 
but  my  hearing  did  not  fail  me  even  under  these  un 
favourable  circumstances. 

"Everything  has  connection  with  it,"  I  heard  him 
say.  "Everything  they  do  and  think.  I  would  n't 
trust  one  of  them  round  the  corner.  I  should  make 
the  greatest  mistake  of  my  life  if  I  allowed  any  secret 
communication  written  by  a  Gillespie  to  pass  under 
my  nose  without  an  attempt  to  see  what  it  was.  This 
one  may  be  of  an  innocent  nature ;  probably  is.  The 
gentleman  who  left  it  with  you  passes  for  a  philan 
thropist,  and  as  such  might  very  readily  hold  com 
munication  with  the  worst  characters  in  town  without 
any  other  motive  than  the  one  you  yourselves  can 
best  appreciate.  But  I  must  be  sure  of  this.  I  have 
been  detailed  to  watch  his  movements,  and  his  move 
ments  have  brought  him  here.  You  will  therefore 
oblige  me,  Miss,  if  you  can  make  it  clear  that  the 
cause  of  justice — by  which  I  mean  the  cause  which  I 
here  personally  represent — will  not  suffer  injury  by 
the  free  transmission  of  this  slip  to  the  person  for 
whom  it  is  meant." 

"  I  will  read  you  what  he  has  written  here,"  replied 


198  THE  MAN 

the  girl.  "  He  left  it  open  or  almost  open  to  anyone's 
perusal."  And  I  heard  her  read  out,  in  low  but  pene 
trating  tones,  the  following  words: 

When  I  last  saw  you,  you  were  suffering.  This  is  an  un 
bearable  thought  to  me,  yet  I  cannot  go  to  you  for  reasons 
which  you  can  readily  appreciate.  Come  to  me,  then.  The 
house  is  always  open  and  the  servants  have  received  orders 
to  admit  anyone  who  asks  for  me. 

This  was  certainly  warm  language  from  a  mere 
philanthropist  to  a  city  waif  whose  misery  had  at 
tracted  his  notice.  But  no  remarks  passed,  and 
Sweetwater  did  not  seek  to  hinder  even  by  a  look 
the  careful  refolding  of  the  slip  and  the  putting  of  it 
away  in  the  young  lass's  desk.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to 
approve  of  this,  for  the  next  moment  I  heard  him  say: 

"That  's  right;  take  good  care  of  the  slip.  If  the 
young  woman  comes  in,  give  it  to  her.  I  suppose 
you  know  her?" 

"Not  at  all;  he  simply  described  her  to  us;  or  at 
tempted  to.  She  may  not  come  in  at  all." 

"Then  keep  a  grip  on  those  lines.  What  kind  of 
a  person  did  he  say  she  was  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  He  said  she  was  wild-looking, 
but  beautiful,  and  that  she  answered  to  some  such 
name  as  Millie." 

"  It  's  likely  to  be  a  fake,  the  whole  mess.  Good- 
day,  Captain;  good-day,  Miss."  And  Detective 
Sweetwater  stepped  away. 

I  had  thought  him  keen,  yet  he  had  paid  no  more 
attention  to  me  than  if  I  had  been  a  stick.  Was  the 
corner  in  which  I  sat  darker  than  I  thought,  or  had 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  IN  NEW  JERSEY      199 

he  been  so  full  of  his  own  affairs  that  he  failed  to 
recognise  me  ?  I  had  kept  my  face  turned  away,  but 
he  assuredly  must  have  known  my  figure. 

When  he  was  gone  the  two  laid  their  heads  together 
for  a  moment,  then  began  to  bustle  towards  me.  In 
the  meantime  I  had  planned  a  coup  d'etat.  I  had 
considered  if,  by  a  little  acting  on  my  part,  I  could  put 
them  in  the  wrong,  I  might  succeed  in  getting  from 
them  some  positive  facts  to  work  upon.  Accordingly, 
I  was  in  a  state  of  suppressed  feeling  when  the  Cap 
tain  found  himself  face  to  face  with  me. 

"I  heard  you,"  said  I,  flinging  down  the  book  I 
had  taken  up.  "I  have  ears  like  a  hare  and  I  could 
n't  help  it.  I  know  Mr.  Gillespie,  and  it  made  my 
blood  boil  to  hear  him  addressed  with  suspicion.  How 
anyone  who  has  ever  heard  him  speak  to  the  poor  and 
unfortunate  could  associate  him  with  the  atrocious 
death  of  his  father,  I  cannot  imagine.  So  good  to 
poor  girls !  So  bountiful  in  his  charities !  I  thought 
you  were  Christians  here." 

The  Captain  may  have  been  a  Christian,  but  he 
was  also  a  man,  and,  being  a  man,  looked  nettled. 

"It  was  a  mistake  for  us  to  discuss  Army  affairs 
within  reach  of  two  such  sharp  ears,"  said  he.  "  Mr. 
Gillespie  has  done  some  good  work,  and  far  be  it  from 
me  to  add  myself  to  those  who  have  associated  his 
name  with  the  crime  which  has  just  made  the  family 
notorious.  I  simply  fail  to  stand  by  him  because  he 
uses  us  as  a  cloak  for  his  personal  indulgences.  He 
is  infatuated  with  a  woman  whom  he  has  never  pre 
sumed  to  present  to  his  family.  This  won't  do  for 
us.  The  other  matter  belongs  to  the  police." 


20O  THE  MAN 

I  allowed  myself  to  cool  down  a  trifle. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon;  you  know  your  own  business, 
of  course.  But  it  's  a  little  hard  for  me  to  believe 
that  such  a  refined  man  as  Mr.  Gillespie  could  find 
any  other  than  a  charitable  interest  in  any  woman 
likely  to  come  straying  in  here.  Did  you  ever  see  his 
home,  his  child,  his  friends?" 

The  Captain  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  curtly 
replied : 

"I  can  imagine."  Then  in  a  tone  calculated  to 
end  the  interview  so  far  as  this  topic  was  concerned: 
"We  count  nothing  as  strange  in  this  place,  sir.  We 
come  too  near  the  unregenerate  heart.  Human 
nature  's  the  same,  sir,  in  rich  and  in  poor.  And 
now,  sir,  your  business  ?  It  's  most  time  for  our  noon 
meeting,  so  I  must  ask  you  to  be  concise." 

I  had  almost  forgotten  I  had  any  business  there, 
but  I  pulled  myself  up  under  his  eye  and  told  him  I 
was  on  the  search  for  a  woman,  too. 

"But  she  's  an  old  one,"  I  made  haste  to  assure 
him;  "a  lodging-house  keeper  who  is  in  the  posses 
sion  of  evidence  of  great  importance  to  a  client  of 
mine.  Her  name,  as  told  me,  is  Mother  Merry;  do 
you  know  any  such  person? " 

He  did  not,  but  informed  me  that  there  were  several 
queer  old  places  down  by  the  wharves  where  I  might 
hear  of  her.  This  was  enough.  I  had  now  an  excuse 
for  penetrating  the  district  towards  which  I  had  been 
pointing  from  the  first. 

Thanking  him,  and  asking  his  pardon  for  my  few 
brusque  words,  I  went  out,  and,  giving  my  policeman 
a  wink,  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  river. 


XXI 

MILLE-FLEURS 

THE  complications  which  had  surrounded  Leigh- 
ton  Gillespie  were,  through  his  own  imprudence, 
in  the  way  of  being  cleared  up,  though  hardly  to  his 
advantage.  This  was  not  all.  Either  from  indiffer 
ence  or  ignorance — I  hardly  thought  it  was  indiffer 
ence — he  had  not  only  called  attention  to  his  own 
secret  passion,  but  laid  such  a  trap  for  the  object  of 
it  that  she  could  hardly  fail  to  fall  ultimately  into  the 
hands  of  the  police. 

Under  these  circumstances  was  it  my  duty  to  pro 
ceed  with  the  task  I  had  imposed  upon  myself?  Was 
my  help  needed  when  Mr.  Gryce's  right-hand  man 
was  at  work?  It  would  not  seem  so.  But — as  I 
was  happy  enough  to  remember  before  my  hesitation 
resolved  itself  into  action — the  one  clue  connecting 
him  to  this  murder  was  to  be  found  in  my  hands,  not 
theirs.  I  alone  knew  where  to  look  for  the  woman 
who  had  procured  him  the  phial  of  poison.  This  in 
itself  created  an  obligation  I  dared  not  slight.  I  must 
continue  my  quest,  if  I  desired  to  fulfil  my  promise  to 
Hope  Meredith. 

The  day  was  Friday  and  the  fish-stalls  were  doing 
a  lively  business.  By  the  time  I  had  threaded  my 
way  through  innumerable  sheds,  I  had  got  enough 

201 


202  THE  MAN 

of  this  commodity  into  my  nostrils  to  satisfy  my  appe 
tite  for  a  week.  I  was  glad  when  I  stepped  out  upon 
the  wharf. 

"  Is  it  along  there  you  want  to  go? "  asked  the  officer 
under  whose  protection  I  moved. 

I  looked,  and  saw  fluttering  before  me  the  calico 
curtain  which  had  blown  in  and  out  of  Yox's  story. 

"Yes,  if  it  's  where  an  old  woman  named  Merry  is 
to  be  found." 

"I  '11  ask." 

He  approached  a  brother  officer  whose  presence  I 
had  not  noticed,  spoke  to  him,  and  came  back. 

"That  's  the  place,"  said  he.  "Do  you  want  me 
to  go  in  with  you  ? ' ' 

"Not  if  it  'ssafe." 

"Oh,  it  's  safe  enough  at  this  hour.  You  have  n't 
any  too  much  cash  on  you,  I  judge?  Besides,  I  '11 
hang  about  the  door,  and  if  you  don't  come  out  in  ten 
minutes  I  '11  just  inquire  the  reason  why.  You  see, 
the  place  's  on  our  books  and  we  don't  want  to  keep 
too  open  an  eye  on  it." 

I  was  glad  to  be  allowed  to  go  in  alone.  I  had 
not  dared  to  hope  for  this  and  felt  correspondingly 
relieved. 

An  unexpectedly  quiet  interior  met  my  eye.  The 
bare  walls,  the  busy  stove,  the  woman  whose  gaunt 
frame  and  lowering  eye  I  had  heard  described  by 
Yox,  were  before  me,  but  nothing  of  a  sinister,  or 
even  suspicious,  appearance.  I  had  surprised  Mother 
Merry's  quarters  at  a  happy  hour;  that  is,  happy  for 
her  and  possibly  so  for  me. 

But  perhaps  I  convey  a  wrong  impression  in  speak- 


MILLE-FLEURS  203 

ing  of  the  walls  as  bare.  They  were  not  so;  for, 
stretched  from  side  to  side  of  the  steam-reeking,  sti 
fling  room,  were  lines  on  which  coarse  garments  were 
hanging  up  to  dry;  and  on  the  wall  directly  before 
me  I  saw  a  pair  of  rough  seaman's  breeches,  pinned 
up  in  a  ghostly  and  grotesque  fashion  over  the  little 
stove  which  even  on  this  mild  afternoon  was  doing 
its  best  to  keep  out  undesirable  visitors. 

The  old  woman,  who  was  bending  over  a  table  on 
which  a  few  broken  victuals  lay,  was,  without  doubt, 
Mother  Merry  herself;  and,  recognizing  her  as  such,  I 
assumed  the  half-audacious,  half-deprecatory  manner 
I  thought  best  calculated  to  impress  her.  With  a 
broad  smile,  I  thrust  my  hand  into  my  pocket.  Then 
as  I  perceived  her  hard  eye  melt  and  the  coarse  lines 
about  her  mouth  twist  into  something  which  was  as 
near  encouragement  as  one  could  expect  from  a  being 
always  on  her  guard  against  strangers,  I  whispered 
with  a  careful  look  about  me: 

"Anyone  here?  My  errand  won't  stand  peering 
eyes  or  listening  ears." 

She  gave  me  a  penetrating  glance. 

"  What  do  you  want? "  she  grumbled. 

I  took  out  a  dollar  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  Her 
hand  was  over  it  in  an  instant. 

"A  morsel  of  drug,"  I  whispered.  "Three  drops 
of  something  that  '11  do  up  a  man  in  five  minutes. 
The  man  is  myself,"  I  added,  as  her  eye  darkened. 

She  continued  to  regard  me  intently  for  a  minute; 
then  cast  a  quick  glance  down  at  the  hand  which  cov 
ered  the  coin. 

"  Sorry,"  she  muttered,  with  a  reluctant  lift  of  that 


204  THE  MAN 

member;  "but  I  'm  not  in  the  way  of  getting  any 
such  stuff.  Who  sent  you  to  me  ? ' ' 

I  hesitated,  then  made  my  great  venture. 

"The  man  you  helped  out  of  here  the  night  the 
police  came  down  on  you.  He  had  better  luck  than 
I.  You  did  n't  refuse  it  to  him." 

"  You  lie ! "  she  cried. 

Startled  by  these  uncompromising  words,  I  fell 
back.  Had  I  made  a  great  mistake  ? 

"He  never  got  any  such  stuff  from  me,"  she 
went  on  shrilly.  "That  was  n't  what  he  came 
for,  or  else  he  made  more  of  a  fool  of  me  than  I 
knew." 

"  What  did  he  come  for? " 

Her  look  of  inquiry  turned  into  one  of  suspicion. 

"Did  you  come  here  to  ask  that?  If  so,  you  'd 
better  go.  I  'm  not  one  of  the  blabbing  sort." 

I  drew  out  another  dollar. 

"  Perhaps  he  got  it  upstairs,"  I  insinuated. 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  spreading  out  her  long  fingers  so 
as  to  cover  both  pieces.  "That  may  be;  those  girls 
have  strange  ways  with  them." 

"May  I  have  a  peep  at  them?  May  I  have  a  peep 
at  her  f" 

The  emphasis  I  placed  on  the  last  word  called  out 
from  Mother  Merry  a  long  stare,  which  I  bore  as  best 
I  could. 

"She  has  n't  a  drop  left  of  what  you  were  talking 
about,"  said  Mother  Merry  at  last.  "  If  she  gave  it  to 
him  it  's  all  gone." 

"Perhaps  she  can  get  more  where  she  got  that,"  I 
made  bold  to  suggest. 


MILLE-FLEURS 


The  old  hag  gave  a  grunt  and  looked  gloatingly  at 
the  coins  sparkling  between  her  bony  fingers. 

"How  many  of  these  have  you  saved  up?"  she 
asked. 

"Ten." 

"And  with  ten  dollars  in  your  pocket  you  come 
here  for  poison  ?" 

Her  amazement  was  quite  real.  Ten  dollars  in  my 
pocket  and  wanting  poison!  It  took  her  some  min 
utes  to  grasp  the  fact  ;  then  she  said  : 

"  And  how  many  of  these  are  for  me  ?  " 

"  Five." 

She  pawed  at  the  coins  till  they  were  well  under 
her  palm. 

"  I  '11  call  her  down;  will  that  do?" 

"Yes." 

"  She  may  not  be  just  right." 

"No  matter." 

"  She  may  be  all  right  herself  and  not  think  you  so." 

"I  '11  risk  that,  too." 

"Then  stand  near  the  stove  so  she  won't  see  you 
when  she  first  comes  in.  She  would  n't  stay  a  min 
ute  if  she  did." 

Obeying  the  old  hag,  I  watched  her  sidle  to  the 
door  already  familiar  to  me  in  Yox's  narrative;  the 
door  upstairs,  I  mean.  As  she  disappeared  behind 
it  I  glanced  at  the  table  near  which  she  had  been 
standing.  The  two  silver  dollars  were  gone. 

"I  '11  never  see  them  again,"  was  my  inward  de 
cision. 

And  I  never  did. 

The  presence  of  the  wet  clothing  hanging  so  near 


206  THE  MAN 

me  was  anything  but  agreeable.  Moving  around  to 
the  other  side  of  the  stove,  I  at  least  avoided  some 
of  the  fumes  which  in  that  stifling  atmosphere  were 
almost  insufferable ;  but  I  was  more  exposed  to  view, 
something  which  the  old  woman  noticed  when  she 
reentered. 

"You  have  moved,"  she  suspiciously  snarled. 
"Come  back  and  let  the  clothes  hide  you.  Perhaps 
I  can  make  the  girl  sing  if  she  don't  see  you.  She 
seems  to  be  in  one  of  her  queer  moods.  Would  you 
like  to  hear  her  sing  ? ' ' 

As  the  old  woman  evidently  expected  an  enthusi 
astic  assent  I  gave  it  with  as  much  force  as  I  could 
muster  up  on  such  short  notice. 

"Hush!  she  is  coming.  You  must  n't  mind  her 
laugh." 

It  was  well  she  gave  me  this  warning,  for  the  sud 
den  wild  shout  of  hilarious  mirth  which  I  now  heard 
from  the  region  of  the  staircase  was  so  startling,  that 
without  these  words  of  caution  I  might  have  betrayed 
myself.  As  it  was,  I  kept  my  post  in  silence,  watch 
ing  for  the  girl  who  I  had  every  reason  to  believe 
had  given  the  bottle  of  prussic  acid  to  Leighton  Gil- 
lespie.  Would  she  prove  to  be  the  wild,  unkempt 
woman  whose  beautiful  look  he  had  endeavoured  to 
describe  to  the  Salvation  Army  Captain?  I  hoped 
not;  why,  I  hardly  knew. 

Suddenly  there  broke  upon  my  eyes  a  sight  I  have 
never  forgotten.  A  woman  came  in — a  woman,  not 
a  girl — and  while  her  look  was  not  beautiful — far  from 
it — she  had  that  about  her  which  no  man  could  see  for 
the  first  time  without  emotion.  Her  features  were 


MILLE-FLEURS  2O? 

ordinary  when  taken  by  themselves,  but  seen  together 
possessed  an  individuality  whose  subtle  attraction 
had  been  marred,  but  not  entirely  destroyed,  by  the 
countless  privations  she  had  evidently  undergone. 
And  her  hair,  wild  and  uncared-for  though  it  was, 
was  wonderful;  so  was  the  air  of  vivacity  and  rich, 
exuberant  life  which  characterised  her.  Though  her 
cheek  was  pale  and  her  arms  thin,  she  fairly  beamed 
with  that  indefinable  but  spontaneous  gladness  which 
springs  from  the  mere  fact  of  being  alive,  a  gladness 
which  at  that  moment  did  not  suggest  drugs  or  any 
unwholesome  source.  I  was  astounded  at  the  effect 
she  produced  upon  me,  and  watched  her  eagerly.  No 
common  unfortunate,  this.  Yet  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  find  among  the  city's  worst  a  woman  more 
bedraggled  or  more  poorly  nourished. 

"Sing!"  cried  old  Mother  Merry,  with  an  authority 
against  which  I  instinctively  rebelled,  though  I  had 
seen  the  object  of  it  for  only  a  couple  of  minutes. 
"  You  feel  like  it,  and  I  feel  like  hearing  you.  SING!  " 

The  woman's  throat  throbbed.  She  stopped  just 
where  she  was  and  threw  out  her  arms.  Then  she 
smiled  and  then — she  sang. 

I  have  heard  Guilbert,  I  have  heard  Loftus,  but 
neither  of  them  ever  made  my  temples  throb,  my 
heart  swell,  or  my  breath  falter  as  this  woman  did. 
That  she  chose  the  saddest  of  all  sad  songs — she  who 
a  moment  before  seemed  hardly  able  to  contain  her 
laughter — could  not  quite  account  for  this  effect; 
nor  the  fact  that  these  flights  of  tragic  melody  rose 
from  out  a  misery  which  no  laughter  could  cover  up. 
It  was  genius,  great  and  wonderful  genius,  misdirected 


208  THE  MAN 

and  lost,  but  still  heaven-given  and  worthy  of 
an  artist's  recognition.  As  she  sang  on  I  yielded 
her  mine,  for  my  heart  swelled  almost  to  bursting, 
and  when  she  had  finished  and  stood  poised,  rapt, 
ecstatic,  enthralled  with  her  own  melody  and  beauti 
ful  with  her  own  feeling,  I  found  my  cheeks  wet  with 
tears.  I  had  never  wept  at  anyone's  singing  before. 

"  Dance!"  came  in  fresh  command  from  the  miser 
able  hag  behind  me. 

I  had  forgotten  Mother  Merry. 

But  the  raised  face  I  was  contemplating  drooped 
forward  at  these  words,  and  the  arms,  which  had 
moved  all  through  the  singing,  fell  inert. 

"  I  have  no  strength,"  she  wailed.  Yet  in  another 
instant  she  was  swaying,  turning,  rising,  and  falling 
in  mazes  of  movement  so  full  of  grace  and  charm 
that  I  scarcely  missed  the  music  which  should  have 
accompanied  them.  It  was  more  than  a  dance:  it 
was  a  drama;  instinctively  I  followed  her  feelings 
and  knew  as  by  a  species  of  revelation  what  each 
motion  was  meant  to  convey.  I  watched  her  as  I 
would  some  charmed  being;  for  the  marks  of  care 
had  vanished  from  her  features,  and  the  lips,  which 
had  been  drawn  and  white,  burned  redly,  and  the 
hair,  which  had  hung  in  dishevelled  locks,  now  blew 
out  in  live  curls,  athrill  with  passion  and  breathing 
forth  rapture  and  love.  Suddenly  she  paused. 
Mother  Merry  had  pointed  me  out  with  the  words: 

"The  gentleman  is  looking  at  you." 

Instantly  her  beauty  shrivelled  and  vanished.  Her 
hands  went  up  to  her  face;  and  she  crouched  like  a 
lost  thing  against  the  floor. 


MILLE-FLEURS  2OQ 

"No,  no!"  she  wailed,  and  would  have  fled,  but 
Mother  Merry  forced  her  back. 

' '  The  gentleman  wants  something.  He  wants  a 
drop  of  what  you  gave  the  other  one  that  night.  You 
remember,  the  night  the  boys  slid  away  and  left  us 
to  the  police." 

Instinctively  her  right  hand  went  to  her  bosom 
and  her  eyes  looked  wildly  into  mine.  Suddenly 
she  saw  the  moisture  on  my  cheeks. 

"Oh!  he  's  been  crying,  Mother  Merry,  been  cry 
ing.  Perhaps  now  I  can  cry,  too.  I  should  like  to; 
it  's  better  than  singing."  And  she  broke  into  sobs 
so  violent  that  I  stood  aghast  in  mingled  pity  and 
amazement. 

Just  then  the  policeman  looked  in. 

"  Hownow?"  he  cried.     "What 's  up?" 

My  impulse  was  to  shield  her  from  this  fellow's  cu 
riosity.  Motioning  him  away,  I  whispered  in  her  ear: 

"You  have  n't  said  whether  you  would  give  me 
what  I  have  come  for." 

"What  is  that?" 

"A  drop  of  what  kills  trouble  ;  kills  it  at  once, 
instantly,  and  forever.  I  am  wretched,  heart 
broken."  (God  knows  I  spoke  the  truth.) 

She  stared,  and  what  remained  of  light  in  her  face 
went  out. 

"  I  have  none — now,"  she  hoarsely  assured  me. 

"Then  get  it  where  you  got  that." 

"  I  cannot.  I  got  that  when  it  was  easier  to  smile, 
and  dancing  was  not  followed  by  dreadful  pain. 
Now — "  She  tried  to  laugh  as  she  had  a  few 
moments  before,  but  her  jocund  mood  had  passed. 


210  THE  MAN 

One  would  never  imagine  from  her  present  aspect 
that  she  had  just  floated  through  the  room  an  em 
bodiment  of  joyousness  and  grace. 

"  You  gave  it  all  to  him,  all  ?"  I  questioned. 

The  emphasis  did  not  strike  her,  or  rather  it  as 
sumed  a  different  place  in  her  mind  than  on  my  lips. 
"  To  him?  "  she  repeated,  shrinking  back  with  evident 
distrust. 

"Yes,"  I  pursued,  following  her  and  speaking  in 
her  ear;  "the  sailor  lad  who  took  it  away  from  here 
that  night.  Poison — prussic  acid — a  phial  you  could 
hide  in  your  hand." 

She  broke  into  laughter,  not  the  expression  of  joy, 
but  that  of  defiance  if  not  derision.  She  was  but  a 
common  woman  now. 

"  Sailor  lad ! "  she  repeated,  and  laughed  again. 

I  felt  that  the  moment  had  come  for  speaking  the 
significant  word.  Looking  around  and  seeing  that 
Mother  Merry  was  not  too  near,  I  whispered: 

"A  sailor  lad  with  a  gentleman's  name.  You 
know  the  name;  so  do  I — Leighton  Gillespie." 

She  had  not  expected  me  to  go  so  far.  Smother 
ing  a  frightened  cry,  she  struck  her  hands  together 
over  her  head  and  dashed  towards  the  door  by  which 
she  had  come  in.  Mother  Merry  stood  before  it  laugh 
ing.  Then  she  turned  to  escape  by  the  street;  but 
there  she  was  confronted  by  the  heavy  form  of  the 
policeman,  who  had  thrust  himself  across  the  thresh 
old.  Crouching,  she  folded  her  arms  over  her  breast 
and  made  a  plunge  for  the  door  communicating 
with  the  den  beyond.  It  opened  under  her  pressure 
and  she  fell  gasping  and  bruised  upon  the  threshold. 


MILLE-FLE  URS  2 1 1 

I  hastened  to  her  aid,  but  she  was  up  before  I  could 
reach  her. 

"I  don't  know  the  man  you  talk  of;  I  don't  know 
you.  I  am  a  free  woman!  a — free — woman! — "  she 
shrieked,  bounding  to  the  trap  and  opening  it.  As 
she  uttered  the  last  words  she  swung  herself  down. 
I  tried  to  stop  her,  but  she  was  as  agile  as  a  cat.  As 
I  leaned  over  the  hole  I  saw  her  disappearing  among 
a  confusion  of  oozy  piles ;  and  shuddering  with  the  chill 
of  the  mephitic  air  that  came  pouring  up,  I  drew  back. 

"That  's  the  end  of  her  for  to-day,"  muttered  the 
harsh  voice  of  Mother  Merry  behind  me.  "When 
she  's  like  that  you  might  as  well  make  for  other 
quarters.  But  you  've  had  your  money's  worth. 
You  've  heard  her  sing;  you  've  seen  her  dance.  It 's 
not  every  man  can  boast  of  that.  She  's  shy  of  men; 
at  least  she  '11  never  sing  for  them." 

Perhaps  I  looked  surprised;  perhaps  I  only  looked 
dejected.  Misinterpreting  the  expression,  whichever 
it  was,  old  Mother  Merry  sidled  up  closer,  and,  as  I 
made  for  the  door,  whispered  with  a  leer : 

"  If  you  really  want  what  you  say,  come  back  in  a 
week ;  and  if  I  can  get  it  you  shall  have  it." 

I  gave  her  another  coin. 

"What  do  you  call  that  girl?"  I  asked,  with  my 
hand  on  the  latch. 

The  money  made  her  loquacious. 

"Millie,"  she  answered.  "That  is  not  how  she 
speaks  it,  but  it  's  how  we  all  call  her." 

It  was,  then,  as  I  had  thought.  I  had  seen  and  lis 
tened  to  Mille-fleurs,  the  woman  to  whom  Leighton 
Gillespie  had  addressed  those  appealing  lines. 


XXII 

A  DISAGREEABLE  HOUR  WITH  A  DISAGREEABLE  MAN 

THIS  interview  made  an  astonishing  impression 
upon  me.  Never  had  I  supposed  myself  ca 
pable  of  being  stirred  to  such  sympathy  by  a  being 
so  degraded  as  this  wonderful  Mille-fleurs. 

Was  it  the  contrast  between  her  genius  and  the 
conditions  under  which  that  genius  had  shown  itself? 
Possibly.  Or  was  it  that  a  recognition  of  the  latent 
sweetness  underlying  her  wild  nature  had  caused  a 
feeling  of  rebellion  against  the  degradation  into 
which  a  creature  of  such  amazing  possibilities  had 
fallen? 

Whatever  it  was,  I  was  conscious  of  a  haunting 
sense  of  regret  such  as  had  followed  few  experiences 
in  my  life,  and  began  to  look  upon  the  man  who  could 
make  use  of  such  a  ruin  of  womanhood  for  the  ob 
taining  of  a  deadly  drug,  with  something  deeper  and 
more  active  than  mere  distrust. 

Leighton  Gillespie  was  a  man  of  the  world.  He 
knew  this  wretched  creature's  weak  points  and  what 
would  procure  him  the  poison  he  dared  not  buy  from 
any  druggist  or  chemist.  Anyone  who  saw  this 
woman  could  read  her  story.  Gay  as  she  was,  buoy- 

212 


A   DISAGREEABLE  HOUR  21$ 

ant  as  her  spirit  rose  in  certain  moments  of  ecstatic 
passion,  she  had  corresponding  moods  of  morbid 
depression,  possibly  of  actual  suffering,  which  only 
morphine  could  relieve.  He  knew  this  and  used  his 
knowledge  without  let  or  scruple.  Was  he  a  monster 
of  selfishness,  or  only  another  instance  of  a  good  man 
gone  to  the  bad  for  the  love  of  a  worthless  woman  ? 
The  latter  theory  seemed  the  more  probable,  since 
all  good  instincts  could  not  be  lacking  in  a  man  who 
had  been  confessedly  helpful  in  many  ways  towards 
rescuing  the  needy  and  aiding  the  unhappy. 

Undone  by  a  woman!  Was  that  the  situation? 
It  is  a  common  one,  God  knows.  Yet  I  found  it  hard 
to  allot  her  the  place  suggested  by  this  theory.  She 
did  not  look  like  one  capable  of  inclining  a  man  to 
murder.  Yet  might  I  not  be  playing  the  fool  in 
cherishing  so  generous  an  estimate  of  her?  Might 
I  not  be  as  yet  too  much  under  the  spell  of  her  pecul 
iar  grace  to  rightly  judge  the  nature  underlying  it? 
What  did  I  know  of  him  or  of  her,  that  I  should  bur 
den  him  with  all  the  blame ;  and  in  what  did  my  own 
wild,  uncalculating  passion  for  a  woman  who  not 
only  did  not  love  me,  but  of  whose  real  character  I 
knew  little  save  as  it  shone  for  me  through  her  cap 
tivating  face,  differ  from  the  feeling  which  might 
easily  be  awakened  in  a  still  more  ardent  breast  by 
a  creature  of  so  much  grace  and  fire  ? 

Certainly  the  words  I  had  overheard  Leighton  Gil- 
lespie  use  in  his  colloquy  with  the  Salvation  Army 
Captain  showed  the  existence  of  feelings  far  beyond 
those  usually  associated  with  a  commonplace  pas 
sion;  so  did  the  lines  he  had  left  behind  him  for  this 


214  THE  MAN 

waif.  But  if  it  was  love  which  moved  him,  it  was 
a  love  which  did  not  shrink  from  involving  its  object 
in  crime.  This  she  had  herself  recognised,  else  why 
had  she  shown  such  terror  at  the  mention  of  his  name 
and  made  such  a  hazardous  attempt  at  escape  when 
threatened  by  the  prospect  of  further  association 
with  him  ? 

The  progress  which  I  had  made  in  the  case  I  had 
undertaken  against  this  man  may  seem  to  have 
reached  a  point  justifying  me  in  communicating  the 
result  to  Hope.  But  though  I  had  succeeded  in  sup 
plying  one  of  the  missing  links  heretofore  mentioned 
as  necessary  to  that  end,  I  nevertheless  hesitated  to 
approach  her  till  the  whole  chain  was  complete.  Her 
very  desire  to  believe  her  youngest  cousin  innocent 
would  make  her  slow  in  accepting  conclusions  too 
much  in  the  line  of  her  own  wishes.  She  might  even 
now  be  moved  by  secret  hopes  in  this  direction,  might 
cherish  convictions  and  calm  herself  with  soothing 
anticipations  of  restored  confidence  in  Alfred,  but 
she  would  require  the  most  positive  evidence  that 
the  potion,  however  and  by  whomever  obtained,  had 
been  actually  and  knowingly  administered  by  Leigh- 
ton.  To  the  establishment  of  this  last  link  in  the 
chain,  I  must  therefore  address  myself;  an  almost 
hopeless  task,  from  which  I  shrank  with  very  natural 
misgivings. 

Two  paths  of  inquiry,  and  two  only,  offered  any 
promise  of  success.  One  of  these  struck  me  as  prac 
ticable;  the  other  not.  But  the  practicable  one  was 
not  within  my  reach,  while  the  other  was  little  more 
than  a  dream.  I  allude  in  the  first  instance  to  the 


A   DISAGREEABLE  HOUR  21$ 

knowledge  supposed  to  lie  hidden  within  the  breast  of 
the  old  butler;  while  the  dream — well,  the  dream  was 
this :  For  some  time  I  had  suspected  the  existence  of  a 
secret  and  as  yet  unknown  witness  of  this  crime,  a 
witness  for  whose  appearance  on  the  scene  I  had  daily 
looked,  and  from  whom  I  did  not  yet  despair  of  glean 
ing  valuable  testimony.  What  basis  had  I  for  this 
dream  ?  I  will  endeavour  to  explain. 

In  presenting  to  your  notice  a  diagram  of  the  par 
lour  floor  of  the  Gillespie  house,  I  was  careful  to  show 
the  window  to  be  found  at  the  left  of  Mr.  Gillespie's 
desk.  But  I  drew  no  attention  to  this  window,  nor 
did  I  think  it  worth  my  while  to  say  that  I  found  the 
shade  of  this  window  rolled  up  when  I  first  followed 
Claire  into  the  room.  Later,  I  drew  this  shade  down, 
but  not  before  noticing  that  a  window  stood  open  in 
the  extension  running  back  of  the  Gillespie  yard 

from  the  adjoining  house  on  Fifty Street,  and 

that  in  the  room  thus  disclosed  a  man  was  to  be  seen 
moving  uneasily  about. 

Now,  if  this  man  had  been  in  that  room  for  any 
length  of  time,  the  chances  were  that  his  glances  had 
fallen  more  than  once  on  the  brilliantly  lighted  in 
terior  of  Mr.  Gillespie's  den,  lying  as  it  did  directly 
under  his  eye.  If  so,  how  much  or  how  little  had  he 
seen  of  what  went  on  there?  That  is  what  I  now 
proposed  to  find  out. 

That  this  person,  who  was  a  total  stranger  to  me, 
had  given  no  sign  of  being  in  the  possession  of  facts 
withheld  from  the  police,  did  not  deter  me  from  hop 
ing  that  I  should  yet  learn  something  from  him. 
Many  men,  among  them  myself,  have  an  invincible 


2l6  THE  MAN 

dislike  to  the  publicity  inseparable  from  the  position 
of  witness,  and  if  this  unknown  man  imagined,  as  he 
naturally  might,  that  the  police  were  ignorant  of  the 
opportunity  which  had  been  given  him  of  looking 
into  Mr.  Gillespie's  house  at  a  moment  so  critical, 
the  chances  were  that  he  would  keep  silent  in  regard 
to  it.  That  his  appearance  at  the  window  had  been 
simultaneous  with  my  sight  of  him,  and  thus  too  late 
for  him  to  have  seen  more  than  I  did  of  what  went 
on  in  Mr.  Gillespie's  den,  was  a  possibility  which 
would  occur  to  any  man.  Also,  that  he  might  have 
been  there  and  in  full  sight  of  the  window  from  the 
first,  yet  had  distractions  of  his  own  which  kept  him 
from  making  use  of  his  opportunities. 

Nevertheless,  the  probabilities  were  favourable  to 
the  hope  I  had  conceived;  and,  deciding  that  in  my 
present  uncertainty  any  action  was  better  than  none, 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  ascertain  who  this  young  man 
was,  and  whether  any  means  offered  for  my  making 
his  acquaintance. 

Sam  Underbill  was  the  only  man  I  knew  capable 
of  bringing  this  about.  I  therefore  went  below  in 
search  of  him,  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  come 
upon  him  just  as  he  was  returning  to  his  room  for 
some  theatre  tickets  he  had  forgotten  to  put  into  his 
pocket.  I  attacked  him  before  he  could  back  out. 

"What  is  the  name  of  those  people  who  live  in  the 

first  house  west  from  Fifth  Avenue  on  Fifty 

Street?"  I  asked.  "Don't  you  remember  the  house 
I  mean?  That  very  narrow  brown-stone  front,  with 
a  vase  of  artificial  flowers  in  one  of  the  parlour 
windows." 


A   DISAGREEABLE  HOUR  21 7 

" me  if  I  know,"  he  protested,  in  a  high  state 

of  impatience,  as  he  snatched  up  the  tickets  he  was 
looking  for.  Then,  seeing  that  I  was  in  no  condition 
to  be  fooled  with,  he  admitted  that  the  name  was 
Rosenthal,  and  carelessly  added,"  What  do  you  want 
to  know  for?  Oh,  I  see,  you  are  still  on  the  scent; 
still  harping  on  that  Gillespie  poisoning  case.  Well, 
the  Rosenthals  may  live  near  the  people  just  men 
tioned,  but  there  's  nothing  in  that  for  you  or  any 
one  else  interested  in  this  crime." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  they  move  in  a  totally  different  set  from 
the  Gillespies.  They  have  absolutely  no  connection 
with  them." 

"  Is  there  a  young  man  in  the  family?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  want  to  know  him.  Find  a  way  of  pre 
senting  me  to  him,  will  you?" 

Sam's  amazement  was  amusing. 

"You  want  an  introduction  to  Israel  Rosenthal?" 

"I  have  said  so." 

"Well,  everyone  to  his  taste.  I  '11  procure  you 
one  this  evening  at  the  theatre.  He  's  a  great  patron 
of  the  Lyceum." 

"And  are  you  going  there?" 

"  As  soon  as  you  release  me." 

"Very  good;  expect  to  find  me  in  the  lobby  after 
the  first  act." 

"  I  'm  obliged  to  you."  This  because  I  had  moved 
out  of  his  way.  I  have  seen  Sam  when  he  was  per 
sonally  more  agreeable  to  me. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  say  what  play  I 


2l8  THE  MAN 

saw  that  night.  It  was  one  of  the  well-known  suc 
cesses  of  the  season,  but  it  meant  nothing  to  me. 
All  my  mind  and  attention  were  on  the  young  man 
I  had  come  there  to  see. 

He  was  in  one  of  the  boxes ;  this  I  found  out  before 
the  first  act  was  over;  and  though  I  caught  flitting 
glimpses  of  his  face,  I  did  not  see  him  closely  enough 
to  form  any  judgment  of  his  temper  or  disposition. 
When  the  first  act  was  over  I  went  into  the  lobby, 
but  Sam  did  not  join  me  there  till  it  was  nearly 
time  for  the  curtain  to  rise  again.  Then  he  came 
alone. 

"  He  '11  be  out  at  the  end  of  the  third  act,"  he  re 
marked.  "  The  wait  is  a  long  one  and  he  will  be  sure 
to  improve  it  in  the  usual  way." 

I  nodded  and  Sam  went  back.  Strange  to  say,  he 
was  interested  in  the  play,  if  I  was  not. 

I  had  no  intention  of  forcing  an  immediate  dis 
closure  from  Mr.  Rosenthal.  Neither  the  time  nor 
place  was  propitious  for  that.  When,  therefore,  the 
anticipated  moment  arrived  and  Sam  sauntered  out 
from  one  aisle  and  Rosenthal  from  another,  I  merely 
pulled  myself  together  to  the  point  of  making  my 
self  agreeable  to  the  rather  unpromising  subject  of 
my  present  interest.  We  were  introduced  off-hand  by 
Sam,  who,  if  he  did  not  like  the  job  (and  it  was  very 
evident  he  did  not),  at  least  went  through  his  part 
in  a  way  not  to  disturb  the  raw  pride  of  my  new 
acquaintance.  Then  we  began  to  talk,  and  I  thought 
I  saw  more  than  ordinary  satisfaction  in  the  manner 
with  which  young  Rosenthal  received  my  advances, 
a  satisfaction  which  led  me  to  mentally  inquire 


A   DISAGREEABLE  HOUR  2lg 

whether  his  pleasure  rose  from  gratification  at  Under- 
hill's  attention  or  from  any  erroneous  idea  he  may 
have  had  of  my  being  a  stepping-stone  to  certain 
desirable  acquaintances.  Or,  more  important  still, 
was  he,  for  reasons  I  was  not  as  yet  ready  to  dwell 
upon,  glad  to  know  a  man  whom  all  recognised  as 
an  important  witness  in  the  great  affair  whose  un 
solved  mystery  was  still  the  theme  of  half  the  town  ? 
I  curbed  my  impatience  and  was  eagerly  pursuing 
the  conversation  towards  a  point  which  might  settle 
this  disturbing  question,  when,  presto!  the  curtain 
rose  on  the  fourth  act  and  he  flew  to  regain  his  box. 

But  not  before  Sam,  with  a  self-denial  I  shall  not 
soon  forget,  had  asked  him  round  to  our  apartments 
after  the  play;  which  invitation  young  Rosenthal 
seemed  glad  to  accept,  for  he  nodded  with  great 
eagerness  as  he  disappeared  around  the  curtains  of 
the  doorway. 

"So  much  to  humour  a  friend!"  growled  Sam,  as 
he,  too,  started  for  his  seat. 

I  smiled  and  went  home. 

At  about  midnight  Sam  came  in  with  my  expected 
guest,  and  we  had  a  rarebit  and  ale.  In  the  midst 
of  the  good  feeling  thus  established,  Rosenthal  broke 
forth  in  the  very  explanation  I  had  been  expecting 
from  the  first. 

"  I  say!  you  were  with  old  Gillespie  when  he  died." 

"The  fact  is  well  known,"  I  returned,  refraining 
from  glancing  at  Sam,  though  much  inclined  to  do 
so. 

"Well,  I  've  a  mighty  curiosity  about  that  case; 
seems  somehow  as  if  I  had  had  a  hand  in  it." 


22O  THE  MAN 

There  was  champagne  on  the  table;  I  pushed  the 
bottle  towards  Sam,  who  proceeded  to  open  it.  While 
this  was  going  on  I  answered  Mr.  Rosenthal,  with  all 
the  appearance  of  surprise  he  doubtless  expected: 

"How  's  that?  Oh,  I  think  I  understand.  You 
are  a  neighbour.  All  who  live  near  them  must  feel 
somewhat  as  you  do." 

"It  is  n't  that,"  he  protested,  draining  his  glass, 
which  Sam  immediately  refilled.  "  I  have  never  told 
anyone, — I  don't  know  why  I  tell  you  fellows, — but 
I  was  almost  in  at  that  death.  You  see,  the  win 
dows  of  my  room  look  directly  down  on  the  little 
den  in  which  he  died,  and  I  chanced  to  be  looking 
in  its  direction  just  as " 

Here  he  stopped  to  enjoy  his  second  glass.  As  the 
rim  slowly  rose,  obscuring  his  eyes,  I  caught  an  ad 
miring  Hm!  from  Sam,  which  filled,  without  reliev 
ing,  this  moment  of  suspense.  As  the  glass  rang 
down  again  on  the  table,  Rosenthal  finished  his 
sentence : 

" — just  as  Mr.  Gillespie  lifted  his  window  to  empty 
out  a  glass  of  something.  Now,  what  was  that  some 
thing?  I  have  asked  myself  a  dozen  times  since 
his  death." 

"But  this  is  evidence!  This  is  a  fact  you  ought 
to  have  communicated  to  the  police,"  broke  in  Under- 
hill,  with  momentary  fire.  Perhaps  it  was  a  real 
one,  perhaps  it  was  the  means  he  used  to  draw  Rosen- 
thai  out. 

"And  be  dragged  up  before  a  thousand  people,  all 
whispering  and  joggling  to  see  me?  No,  I  have  too 
much  self-respect.  I  only  speak  of  it  now,"  said 


A   DISAGREEABLE  HOUR  221 

he  with  great  dignity,  "because  I  'm  so  deuced  cu 
rious  to  know  whether  it  was  poison  he  threw  out, 
a  dose  of  chloral,  or  just  plain  wine.  It  might  have 
been  any  of  these  three,  but  I  have  always  thought 
it  was  the  first,  because  he  seemed  so  afraid  of  being 
seen." 

"Afraid  of  being  seen  drinking  it  or  of  throwing  it 
out?" 

"Throwing  it  out." 

"Oh!" 

Sam  and  I  stopped  helping  ourselves  to  wine  and 
left  the  bottle  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know  what  time  this  was? "  I  asked. 

"No;  how  should  I  ?  It  was  before  ten,  for  at 
ten  he  was  dead." 

"It  could  not  have  been  poison  he  threw  out  or 
even  the  remains  of  it,"  I  remarked,  "for  that  would 
imply  suicide ;  and  the  verdict  was  one  of  murder." 

Mr.  Rosenthal  was  just  far  enough  gone  to  accept 
this  assertion. 

"That's  so.  I  wonder  I  never  thought  of  that 
before.  Then  it  must  have  been  wine.  Now,  I 
would  n't  have  thought  so  badly  of  Mr.  Gillespie  as 
that.  I  always  considered  him  a  sensible  man,  and 
no  sensible  man  pours  wine  out  of  a  window,"  he 
sapiently  remarked,  raising  his  glass. 

It  was  empty,  and  he  set  it  down  again;  then  he 
took  up  the  bottle.  That  was  empty,  too.  Grum 
bling  some  unintelligible  words,  he  glanced  at  the 
cabinet. 

We  failed  to  understand  him. 

"There  are    but  two    excuses    for    a    man    who 


222  THE  MAN 

deliberately  wastes  wine,"  he  proceeded,  in  tipsy  argu 
ment  with  himself.  "  Either  he  has  had  enough — 
hard  to  think  that  of  Mr.  Gillespie  at  so  early  an  hour 
in  the  evening — or  else  the  liquor  's  bad.  Now,  only 
a  fool  would  accuse  a  man  like  Mr.  Gillespie  of  hav 
ing  bad  liquor  in  his  house,  unless — unless — some 
thing  got  into  it — Oh!"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  with 
the  complacency  of  one  who  has  unexpectedly  made 
a  remarkable  discovery,  "there  was  something  in 
it,  something  which  gave  it  a  bad  taste.  Prussic 
acid  has  a  bad  taste,  has  n't  it? — and  not  liking  the 
taste  he  flung  the  wine  away.  No  man  would  go 
on  drinking  wine  with  prussic  acid  in  it,"  he  mum 
bled  on.  "Now,  which  of  those  fellows  was  it  who 
poured  him  out  that  wine?" 

We  sat  silent;  both  bound  that  he  should  supply 
his  own  answer. 

"  I  ought  to  know;  I  've  read  about  it  enough.  It 
was  the  slick  one ;  the  fellow  who  goes  by  me  as  if  I 
were  dirt — Oh,  I  know;  it  's  Leighton!  Leighton!" 
And  he  stumbled  to  his  feet  with  a  sickening  leer. 

"I  'm  going  down  to  the  police  station,"  he  cried. 
"  I  'm  going  to  inform  the  authorities " 

"Not  to-night,"  I  protested,  rising  and  speaking 
somewhat  forcibly  in  his  ear.  "If  you  go  there  to 
night  they  will  shut  you  up  till  morning — jail  you!" 

He  laughed  boisterously.  "That  would  be  a  joke. 
None  of  that  for  me.  I  '11  see  them  dashed  first." 
And  he  looked  at  us  with  a  sickly  smile,  the  remem 
brance  of  which  will  make  me  hate  him  forever.  Sud 
denly  he  began  to  search  for  his  hat.-  "I  think  I  '11 
go  home,"  he  observed,  with  an  air  of  extreme  con- 


A   DISAGREEABLE  HOUR  22$ 

descension.  "Leigh ton  Gillespie,  eh?  Well,  I'm 
glad  the  question  is  settled.  Here  's  to  his  health! 
and  yours — and  yours " 

He  was  gone. 

We  were  both  on  our  feet  ready  to  assist  him  in 
his  departure.  But  he  got  away  in  good  shape,  and 
when  the  lower  door  slammed  we  congratulated  each 
other  with  a  look.  Then  Sam  seized  the  bottle  and 
I  the  glass  from  which  this  fellow  had  drunk,  and 
both  fell  crashing  into  the  fireplace.  Then  Sam 
spoke : 

"I  fear  Leigh  ton  Gillespie  will  sleep  his  last  sound 
sleep  to-night." 

"You  must  consider  the  drivel  we  have  just  lis 
tened  to  as  of  some  importance,  then,"  I  declared. 

"Taken  with  what  Yox  told  us,  I  certainly  do," 
was  Sam's  emphatic  reply. 

The  sigh  which  escaped  me  was  involuntary.  If 
this  was  Sam's  opinion,  I  must  prepare  myself  for 
an  interview  with  Hope.  Alas!  it  was  likely  to 
bring  me  sorrow  in  proportion  to  the  joy  it  brought 
her. 


XXIII 

IN    MY    OFFICE 

IT  was  with  strange  reluctance  I  opened  the  paper 
next  morning.  Though  I  had  no  reason  for 
apprehending  that  my  adventure  of  the  day  be 
fore  had  been  shared  by  anyone  likely  to  give 
information  in  regard  to  it,  the  consciousness  of 
holding  an  important  secret  is  so  akin  to  the  con 
sciousness  of  guilt,  I  could  not  help  dreading  some 
reference  to  the  same  in  the  sheet  I  now  unfolded.  I 
wished  to  be  the  first  to  tell  Miss  Meredith  of  the 
new  direction  in  which  suspicion  was  pointing,  and 
experienced  great  relief  when,  upon  consulting  the 
columns  usually  devoted  to  the  all-engrossing  topic 
of  the  Gillespie  poisoning  case,  I  came  upon  a  direct 
intimation  of  the  necessity,  now  universally  felt,  of 
holding  Alfred  accountable  for  his  father's  death, 
as  the  only  one  of  the  three  who  had  shown  him 
self  unable  to  explain  away  the  circumstantial 
evidence  raised  against  him. 

This  expression  of  opinion  on  the  part  of  the  press 
had  been  anticipated  too  long  by  Miss  Meredith  for 
it  to  prove  a  shock  to  her.  I  therefore  did  not  com 
mit  myself  to  an  early  interview,  but  went  at  once 
to  my  office,  where  important  business  awaited 
me. 

224 


IN  MY  OFFICE 

I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  law  paper,  when  I  was 
warned  by  a  certain  nervous  perturbation  fast  be 
coming  too  common  with  me,  that  someone  had  been 
admitted  to  my  inner  office  and  now  stood  before 
me.  Looking  up,  I  saw  her. 

She  wore  a  thick  veil,  and  was  clad  in  a  long  cloak 
which  completely  enveloped  her.  But  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  outlines  of  the  figure  which  had  dwelt 
in  my  mind  and  heart  ever  since  the  fateful  night 
of  our  first  meeting,  or  the  half-frightened,  half-eager 
attitude  with  which  she  awaited  my  invitation  to 
enter.  Agitated  by  her  presence,  which  was  totally 
unexpected  in  that  place,  I  rose,  and,  with  all  the 
apparent  calmness  the  situation  demanded,  I  wel 
comed  her  in  and  shut  the  door  behind  her. 

When  I  turned  back  it  was  to  meet  her  face  to  face. 
She  had  taken  off  her  veil  and  loosened  her  cloak  at 
the  neck;  and  as  the  latter  fell  apart  I  saw  that  the 
left  hand  clutched  a  newspaper.  I  no  longer  doubted 
the  purpose  of  her  visit.  She  had  seen  the  article  I 
have  just  quoted,  and  was  more  moved  by  it  than  I 
had  expected. 

"You  must  pardon  this  intrusion,"  she  began, 
ignoring  the  chair  I  had  set  for  her.  "I  have  seen 
— learned  something  which  grieves — alarms  me. 
You  are  my  lawyer;  more  than  that,  my  friend — I 
have  no  other — so  I  have  come — "  Here  she  sank 
into  a  chair,  first  drooping  her  head,  then  looking 
up  piteously. 

I  tried  to  give  her  the  support  she  asked  for.  Con 
cealing  the  effect  of  her  emotion  upon  me,  I  told  her 
that  she  could  find  no  truer  friend  or  one  who 


226  THE  MAN 

comprehended  her  more  intuitively;  then  with  a 
gesture  towards  the  paper,  I  remarked : 

"You  are  frightened  at  the  impatience  of  the 
public.  You  need  not  be,  Miss  Meredith;  there  are 
always  certain  hot-headed  people  who  advocate  rash 
methods  and  demand  any  bone  to  gnaw  rather  than 
not  gnaw  at  all.  The  police  are  more  circumspect; 
they  are  not  going  to  arrest  any  one  of  your  cousins 
without  evidence  strong  enough  to  warrant  such 
extreme  measures.  Do  not  worry  about  Alfred 
Gillespie;  to-morrow  it  will  not  be  his  name,  but " 

With  a  leap  she  was  on  her  feet. 

"Whose?"  she  cried,  meeting  my  astonished  gaze 
with  such  an  agony  of  appeal  in  her  great  tear-dry 
eyes,  that  I  drew  back  appalled. 

It  was  not  Alfred,  then,  she  loved.  Was  it  the 
handsome  George,  after  all,  or  could  it  be — no,  it 
could  not  be — that  all  this  youth,  all  this  beauty, 
nay,  this  embodiment  of  truest  passion  and  self-for 
getting  devotion,  had  fixed  itself  upon  the  unhappy 
man  whom  I  had  just  decided  to  be  unworthy  of 
any  woman's  regard. 

Aghast  at  the  prospect,  I  plunged  on  wildly,  des 
perately,  but  with  a  certain  restraint  merciful  to 
her,  if  no  relief  to  me. 

"George,    too,    seems    innocent.      Leighton    only 

Yes,  it  was  he.     I  saw  it  as  the  name  passed 

my  lips,  saw  it  even  before  she  gave  utterance  to  the 

low  cry  with  which  she  fell  at  my  feet  in  an  attitude 

of  entreaty. 

"Oh!"  she  murmured,  "don't  say  it!  I  cannot 
bear  it  yet.  No  schooling  has  made  me  ready.  It 


IN  MY  OFFICE  2.2J 

is  unheard  of — impossible!  He  is  so  good,  so  kind, 
so  full  of  lofty  thoughts  and  generous  impulses.  I 
would  sooner  suspect  myself,  and  yet — oh,  Mr. 
Outhwaite,  pity  me!  Every  support  is  gone;  every 
thing  in  which  I  trusted  or  held  to.  If  he  is  the 
base,  the  despicable  wretch  they  say,  where  shall  I 
seek  for  goodness,  trustworthiness,  and  truth?" 

I  had  no  heart  to  answer.  So  it  was  upon  the 
plainest,  least  accomplished,  and,  to  all  appearance, 
least  responsive  as  well  as  least  responsible,  of  Mr. 
Gillespie's  three  sons  she  had  fixed  her  affections  and 
lavished  the  warm  emotions  of  her  passionate  young 
life.  Why  had  I  not  guessed  it?  Why  had  I  let 
George's  handsome  figure  and  Alfred's  lazy  graces 
blind  me  to  the  fact  that  woman  chooses  through 
her  imagination;  and  that  if  out  of  a  half-dozen 
suitors  she  encounters  one  she  does  not  thoroughly 
understand,  he  is  sure  to  be  the  one  to  strike  her  un 
tutored  fancy.  Alas!  for  her  when,  as  in  this  case, 
this  lack  of  mutual  understanding  is  founded  on 
the  impossibility  of  a  pure  mind  comprehending  the 
hidden  life  of  one  who  puts  no  restriction  upon  the 
worst  side  of  his  nature. 

These  thoughts  were  instantaneous,  but  they  made 
a  dividing  line  in  my  life.  Henceforth  this  woman, 
in  all  her  alluring  beauty,  was  in  a  way  sacred  to  me, 
like  a  child  we  find  astray.  Raising  her  from  the 
appealing  posture  into  which  she  had  sunk,  I  assured 
her  with  as  much  gentleness  as  my  own  inner  rebel 
lion  would  allow: 

"You  have  not  trusted  him  yourself,  or  you  would 
let  no  newspaper  report  drive  you  here  for  solace." 


228  THE  MAN 

She  cringed ;  the  blow  had  told.  But  she  struggled 
on,  with  a  feverish  desire  to  convince  herself,  if  not 
me,  of  the  worth  of  him  she  loved  so  passionately. 

"I  know — it  was  my  weakness — or  his  misfortune. 
He  had  given  me  no  cause — no  real  cause — his  eccen 
tricities — my  uncle's  impatience  with  them — my  own 
difficulty  in  understanding  them — little  things,  Mr. 
Outhwaite,  nothing  deep,  nothing  convincing — I  can 
not  explain — shadows — memories  so  slight  they  van 
ish  while  I  seek  them — I  would  have  given  worlds 
not  to  have  been  shaken  in  my  faith,  not  to  have 
included  him  for  a  minute  in  the  accusation  of  that 
phrase,'  one  of  my  sons  ' ;  but  I  am  over-conscientious, 
and  because  the  one  I  trusted — lived  by,  had  not 
been  exonerated  by  his  father,  I  did  not  dare  to  sep 
arate  him  from  the  rest,  in  the  doubts  his  father's 
accusation  had  raised.  It  would  have  been  unjust 
to  them,  to  the  two  who  cared  most  for  me — the 
two — "  Here  her  voice  trailed  off  into  silence, 
only  to  rise  in  the  sudden  demand:  "What  has 
occasioned  this  change  in  public  opinion?  What 
have  the  police  discovered,  what  have  you  dis 
covered,  that  he  should  now  be  singled  out — he 
against  whom  nothing  was  found  at  the  inquest — 
who  has  a  child " 

"  Yet  who  allows  himself  to  lead  a  double  life." 

I  said  this  with  a  purpose.  I  knew  what  its  effect 
must  be  upon  so  pure  a  soul,  and  I  was  not  surprised 
at  the  emotion  she  displayed.  Yet  there  was  some 
thing  in  her  manner  as  she  pressed  her  two  hands 
together  which  suggested  the  presence  of  a  different 
feeling  from  the  one  I  had  expected  to  rouse  in  launch- 


IN  MY  OFFICE  2 29 

ing  this  poisoned  arrow;  and,  hesitating  with  new 
doubt,  I  went  falteringly  on: 

"  Some  men  show  a  very  different  face  in  their 
homes  and  before  their  friends  than  in  haunts  where 
your  pure  imagination  cannot  follow  them.  The  life 
lived  under  your  eye  is  not  the  one  really  led  by  the 
melancholy  being  you  have  watched  with  such  sym 
pathetic  interest." 

She  did  not  seem  to  follow  me. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Her  indignation  was  so 
strong  that  she  leaped  to  her  feet  and  eyed  me  with 
a  manifest  sense  of  outrage.  "You  speak  as  if  you 
meant  something  I  should  not  hear.  He!  Claire's 
father " 

It  was  a  difficult  task.  Surely  my  lines  had  fallen 
in  untoward  places.  But  there  was  no  doubt  about 
my  duty.  If  her  fresh,  unspoiled  heart  had  made 
its  home  in  a  nest  of  serpents,  it  was  well  she  should 
know  her  mistake  before  the  shame  of  the  discovery 
should  overwhelm  her. 

Turning  aside,  so  that  I  should  not  seem  to  spy 
upon  her  agitation,  I  answered  her  as  such  questions 
should  be  answered,  with  the  truth. 

"Miss  Meredith,"  said  I,  "when  I  undertook  to 
sift  this  matter,  and  if  possible  bring  to  light  some 
fact  capable  of  settling  the  doubt  that  is  wearing 
away  your  life,  I  hoped  to  relieve  your  heart  and 
restore  your  faith  in  the  one  cousin  most  congenial 
to  you.  That  I  have  failed  in  this  and  find  myself 
called  upon  to  inflict  suffering  rather  than  to  bring 
peace  to  your  agitated  heart  is  a  source  of  regret 
to  myself  which  you  can  never  measure.  But  it 


230  THE   MAN 

cannot  be  helped.  I  dare  not  keep  back  the  truth. 
Leighton  Gillespie  is  unworthy  your  regard,  Miss 
Meredith,  not  only  because  he  lies  under  suspicion 
of  having  committed  the  worst  sin  in  the  calendar, 
but  because  he  has  deceived  you  as  to  the  state  of 
his  own  affections.  He " 

"Wait!"  Her  voice  was  peremptory;  her  man 
ner  noble.  "  I  wish  to  say  right  here,  Mr.  Outhwaite, 
that  Leighton  Gillespie  has  never  deceived  me  in 
this  regard.  I  have  cared  for  him  because — because 
I  could  not  help  it.  But  he  has  never  led  me  into 
doing  so  by  any  show  of  peculiar  interest  in  myself. 
George  has  courted  me  and  Alfred  nearly  has,  but 
not  Leighton;  yet  to  him  my  whole  heart  went  out, 
and  if  it  is  a  shame  to  own  it  I  must  endure  that 
shame  rather  than  injure  his  cause  by  leaving  you 
under  the  influence  of  a  prejudice  which  has  no 
foundation  in  fact." 

Before  the  generosity  of  this  self-betrayal  I  bowed 
my  head.  Her  beauty,  warm  and  glowing  as  it  was 
at  this  moment  of  self-abandonment,  did  not  im 
press  me  so  much  as  the  mingled  candour  and  pride 
with  which  she  exonerated  this  man  from  the  one 
fault  of  which  she  knew  him  to  be  innocent.  It  gave 
me  a  new  respect  for  her  and  a  shade  more  of  forbear 
ance  for  him,  so  that  my  voice  softened  as  I  replied: 

"Well,  well,  we  will  not  charge  him  with  deliberate 
falsehood  towards  you,  only  with  the  madness  which 
leads  a  man  to  sacrifice  honour  and  reputation  to  the 
fancied  charms  of  an  irresponsible  woman.  He  is 
under  a  spell,  Miss  Meredith,  which  I  will  not  attempt 
to  name.  The  object  of  it  I  have  myself  seen,  and 


IN  MY  OFFICE 

it  was  from  her  hand  (possibly  without  her  under 
standing  the  purpose  for  which  he  wanted  it,  as  she 
has  no  appearance  of  being  a  really  wicked  woman) 
that  he  obtained  the  poison  which  did  such  deadly 
work  in  your  uncle's  house." 

The  worst  was  said;  and  the  silence  that  followed 
was  one  never  to  be  forgotten  by  her  or  by  me.  When 
it  was  broken,  it  was  by  Hope,  and  in  words  which 
came  in  such  starts  and  with  such  pauses,  I  could 
only  guess  their  meaning  through  my  own  identifica 
tion  with  her  shame  and  grief. 

"Calumny! — it  cannot  be! — so  good — so  thought 
ful  in  his  bringing  up  of  Claire — that  day  he  pulled 
her  aside  lest  she  should  stumble  against  the  little 
boy  with  the  broken  arm.  It  is  a  dream!  a  horrible 
dream!  He  depraved?  he  a  buyer  of  poison? — no, 
no,  no,  not  he,  but  the  evil  spirit  that  sometimes 
possesses  him.  Leighton  Gillespie  in  his  true  hours 
is  a  man  to  confide  in,  to  regard  with  honour,  to — 
to — to " 

I  no  longer  made  an  effort  at  listening.  She  was 
not  addressing  me,  but  her  own  soul,  with  which  for 
the  moment  she  stood  apart  in  the  great  loneliness 
which  an  overwhelming  catastrophe  creates.  She 
did  not  even  remember  my  presence,  and  I  did  not 
dare  recall  it  to  her.  I  simply  let  her  lose  herself  in 
her  own  grief,  while  I  fought  my  own  battle,  and, 
as  I  hope,  won  my  own  victory.  But  this  could  not 
last  ;  she  suddenly  awoke  to  the  nearness  of  listen 
ing  ears,  and,  flushing  deeply,  ceased  the  broken  flow 
of  words  which  had  so  worn  upon  my  heart,  and,  re 
gaining  some  of  her  lost  composure,  forcibly  declared: 


232  THE  MAN 

"You  are  an  honest  man,  Mr.  Outhwaite,  and,  I 
am  told,  a  reliable  lawyer.  You  have  too  much  feel 
ing  and  judgment  to  malign  a  man  already  labour 
ing  under  the  accusation  which  unites  this  whole 
family  in  one  cloud  of  suspicion.  Tell  me,  then,  do 
you  positively  know  Leighton  to  have  done  what  you 
say?" 

"  Alas! "  was  my  short  but  suggestive  reply. 

Instantly  she  ceased  to  struggle,  and  with  a  calm 
ness  hardly  to  be  expected  from  her  after  such  a 
display  of  feeling,  she  surveyed  me  earnestly  for  a 
moment,  then  said : 

"Tell  me  the  whole  story.  I  have  a  reason  for 
hearing  it,  a  reason  which  you  would  approve.  Let 
me  hear  what  you  learned,  what  you  saw.  It  is  not 
to  be  found  in  the  papers.  I  have  only  found  there 
a  general  allusion  to  him  calculated  to  prepare  the 
mind  for  some  great  disclosure  to-morrow — "  And 
her  hand  tightened  upon  the  sheet  which  I  now  dis 
covered  to  be  the  one  morning  journal  I  had  failed 
to  see.  You  will  pay  no  attention  to  my  feelings — 
I  have  none — we  are  sitting  in  court — let  me  hear." 

Respecting  her  emotion,  respecting  the  attitude 
in  which  she  had  placed  me,  I  did  as  she  requested. 
With  all  the  succinctness  possible,  I  told  her  how  I 
had  been  led  to  go  to  Mother  Merry's  and  what  I  had 
discovered  there.  Then  I  related  what  we  had 
learned  from  Rosenthal.  The  narrative  was  long, 
and  gave  me  ample  opportunity  for  studying  its 
effect  upon  her. 

But  she  made  no  betrayal  of  her  feelings ;  perhaps, 
as  she  had  said,  she  had  none  at  this  moment.  With 


IN  MY  OFFICE  233 

her  hand  clenched  on  her  knee,  she  sat  listening  so 
intently  that  all  her  other  faculties  seemed  to  have 
been  suspended  for  this  purpose ;  only,  as  I  approached 
the  end,  I  noticed  that  the  grey  shadow  which  had 
hung  over  her  from  the  first  had  deepened  to  a  pall 
beneath  which  the  last  vestige  of  her  abounding  youth 
had  vanished. 

My  own  heart  grew  heavy  as  the  gladness  left  hers, 
and  I  was  nearly  as  desolate  as  she  when  I  made  this 
final  remark : 

"That  is  all,  Miss  Meredith.  I  as  truly  believe 
that  Leighton  Gillespie  bought  the  bottle  of  poison 
from  the  girl  he  called  Mille-fleurs  as  if  I  had  seen 
him  laying  the  money  down  before  her.  But  Rosen- 
thal's  admissions  you  must  take  at  your  own  valua 
tion.  He  says  he  saw  your  uncle,  with  backward 
looks  and  signs  of  secret  fear  and  disturbance,  pour 
out  something  from  a  glass  on  to  the  grass-plot  under 
neath  his  open  window.  Was  it  the  wine  which  had 
been  given  him  by  Leighton,  and  did  he  do  this  be 
cause  of  the  drug  he  had  detected  in  it? — a  drug, 
alas!  so  fatal,  it  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  drink 
the  full  glass  in  order  to  succumb  to  it?  That  is  a 
question  you  must  answer  in  your  mind  from  the 
knowledge  you  have  of  your  uncle  and  his  family." 

There  was  a  hope  held  out  in  this  last  phrase  which 
I  expected  to  see  her  embrace.  But  she  did  not ;  on 
the  contrary,  her  depression  remained  unchanged  and 
she  said : 

"  I  knew  my  uncle  well.  He  was  a  just  man,  and, 
in  times  of  great  danger,  a  cool  one.  He  would  never 
have  written  for  my  eyes  those  four  words — 1  one  of 


234  THE  MAN 

my  sons  ' — unless  some  new  fact  had  added  certainty 
to  his  former  conviction.  The  drug  was  in  the  wine 
handed  him  by  Leighton;  we  must  accept  that  fact 
whatever  it  may  cost  us." 

Her  calmness  amazed  me.  For  the  last  few  min 
utes  she  seemed  upborne  by  some  secret  thought  I 
could  neither  fathom  nor  understand. 

But  suddenly  her  old  horror  returned  with  the 
recurrence  of  some  old  memory.  "Then  it  was  his 
hand  that  stole  towards  my  uncle's  glass  in  the  dark ! " 
she  cried;  "  that  murderous,  creeping  hand,  the  vision 
of  which  has  haunted  me  night  and  day  since  I  heard 
of  it.  Oh,  horrible!  horrible!  What  a  curse  to  fall 
upon  a  man !  It  is  the  work  of  the  arch-fiend.  Poor 
Leighton!  poor  Leighton!"  she  cried  in  her  agony. 

Bowing  her  head,  she  sobbed  bitterly,  while  I  sur 
veyed  her  in  amazement.  I  did  not  understand  her. 
She  seemed  to  be  weeping  for  Leighton,  not  for  her 
self;  at  all  events  she  did  not  show  the  repulsion  I 
expected  from  her  in  face  of  such  monstrous  deprav 
ity.  Was  the  fascination  he  exerted  over  her  so 
great  that  she  could  not  weigh  at  their  proper  value 
characteristics  so  entirely  evil?  It  did  not  seem  pos 
sible.  Yet  there  she  sat  mourning  for  him,  instead 
of  crushing  the  very  thought  of  him  out  of  her  heart. 

"I  think  I  comprehend  it  all  now,"  she  finally 
whispered,  half  to  herself  and  half  to  me.  "I  have 
had  the  thought  before;  it  has  come  when  that  be 
wildering  look  of  mad  uneasiness  has  crossed  his  face 
and  he  has  left  us  to  be  gone  days,  sometimes  weeks, 
without  notice  or  explanation.  It  is  a  strange  idea, 
a  secret,  almost  an  uncanny,  one;  but  it  is  the  only 


IN  MY  OFFICE 

one  that  can  explain  a  crime  for  which  one  and  all 
of  my  cousins  seem  to  lack  the  inherent  baseness. 
Dare  I  breathe  it  to  you  ?  It  may  be  the  saving  of 
Leighton,  if  true;  God  knows  it  is  my  only  excuse 
for  clinging  to  him  still." 

"And  you  do  cling  to  him  still?"  I  asked,  knowing 
what  her  answer  would  be,  but  hoping  against  hope. 

The  look  she  gave  recalled  all  her  old  beauty. 
Would  that  I  might  have  been  the  cause  of  it!  or 
that  a  woman  would  love  where  she  was  loved 
and  not  where  her  heart  must  encounter  disgrace 
and  bitter  suffering. 

"I  cannot  help  doing  so,"  she  murmured.  "He 
will  soon  need  my  aid,  if  not  my  comfort ;  for  I  know 
what  these  horrible  contradictions  mean.  I  under 
stand  them,  understand  him,  and  even  the  revolting 
crime  of  which  he  may  have  been  guilty.  Hypo 
crisy  does  not  explain  it ;  depravity  does  not  explain 
it;  his  good  acts  are  too  real,  the  nobility  of  his  na 
ture  too  unmistakable.  Disease  alone  can  account 
for  it.  He  is  the  victim  of  double  consciousness,  and 
he  leads  two  lives — your  own  expression — because 
the  two  hemispheres  of  his  brain  do  not  act  in  unison. 
Wickedness  is  not  his  normal  condition.  His  nor 
mal  condition  is  a  noble  one.  By  nature  he  is  a  God 
fearing  man,  devoted  to  good  works  and  high  thoughts, 
When  he  goes  astray  it  is  because  the  balance  of  his 
faculties  has  been  disturbed.  This  is  no  new  thing 
to  the  psychologist.  You  yourself  have  heard  of 
men  so  afflicted.  Leighton  Gillespie  is  one." 

Was  her  own  brain  turned  by  her  terror,  anxiety, 
and  wonder?  Surely  she  was  either  mad  or  playing 


236  THE  MAN 

with  my  common  sense.  But  the  calm  dignity  of 
her  manner  proved  that  she  had  advanced  this  as 
tonishing,  this  fantastic  explanation  of  Leighton  Gil- 
lespie's  contradictory  actions  in  good  faith.  Despair 
seized  me  at  this  proof  of  his  tenacious  hold  upon  her, 
and  I  could  not  quite  restrain  a  touch  of  irony. 

"You  would  make  him  out  a  sort  of  Jekyll  and 
Hyde,"  I  ventured.  "Alas!  I  fear  the  courts  do 
not  take  into  account  the  theories  of  the  romancer 
in  their  judgment  of  criminals." 

The  sarcasm  passed  unheeded.  Growing  more  and 
more  beautiful  as  her  earnestness  increased,  she  said 
with  simple  confidence : 

"Talk  to  Dr.  Bennett;  he  has  known  my  cousin 
almost  from  his  birth.  Ask  what  these  sudden 
changes  mean  in  a  man  whose  primal  instincts  have 
always  been  good.  Ask  why  this  devoted  father, 
this  kind  son,  suddenly  loses  himself,  it  may  be  at 
table,  it  may  be  while  sitting  with  his  own  child  by 
the  fire,  and,  deaf  to  all  remonstrance,  blind  to  the 
most  touching  appeals  of  those  about  him,  goes  sud 
denly  out  and  does  not  come  back  till  he  can  be  him 
self  again  in  the  presence  of  his  family  and  under 
the  eye  of  his  friends.  Previous  to  that  awful  morn 
ing  when  my  uncle  unsealed  to  my  eyes  the  horrible 
secret  that  rested  like  a  cloud  over  the  household, 
I  used  to  give  another  explanation  to  these  varying 
moods,  and  see  in  them  a  promise  of  more  personal 
hopes  and  an  augury  of  my  own  future  happiness; 
so  easy  is  it  for  a  woman  to  deceive  herself  when  she 
worships  a  man  without  fully  comprehending  him. 
I  thought — "  Here  her  calm  candour  grew  almost 


IN  MY  OFFICE 


heroic  in  the  effort  she  made  to  impress  me  with  the 
reasons  she  cherished  for  her  belief,  "  I  thought  he 
was  jealous  of  George  or  angry  with  Alfred,  and  was 
driven  away  by  his  fears  of  self-betrayal  or  his  dread 
of  being  led  into  making  unworthy  reprisals.  But 
now  I  see  that  it  was  his  abnormal  nature  which  had 
come  into  play,  a  nature  of  which  he  may  be  ignorant 
when  in  full  health,  and  for  the  manifestations  of 
which  he  may  be  no  more  responsible  than  we  are 
for  the  vagaries  we  commit  in  dreams." 

"You  have  not  read  the  latest  discoveries  in  hyp 
notism,"  I  rejoined.  "A  man  can  be  driven  into 
no  act  for  which  he  lacks  the  natural  instinct.  But 
I  do  not  want  to  be  cruel,  Miss  Meredith.  I  am  too 
sincere  in  my  desire  to  save  you  unnecessary  pain 
and  heartache.  Since  you  wish  it,  I  will  see  Dr. 
Bennett,  but  -  " 

My  smile  seemed  to  unnerve  her. 

"But  you  do  not  think  he  will  agree  with  me  in 
my  interpretation  of  this  crime  and  Leighton's  con 
nection  with  it?" 

"  I  do  not,  Miss  Meredith." 

"Then,"  she  cried,  with  a  high  look  and  a  gleam 
of  quiet  resolve  that  made  me  realise  how  small  was 
my  influence  in  face  of  her  overpowering  love  for  this 
man,  "God's  will  be  done!  I  shall  believe  in  what 
I  have  said  till  he  whom  I  have  trusted  is  proved  the 
heinous  malefactor  you  consider  him.  When  that  hour 
comes,  I  perish,  killed  by  the  greatest  shame  that  can 
overwhelm  a  woman.  To  love  one  who  has  never 
sought  your  affection  may  cause  the  cheek  to  burn 
and  the  heart  to  recoil  upon  itself  ;  but  to  have  given 


238  THE  MAN 

all  one's  youth  and  the  most  cherished  impulses  of 
the  heart  to  a  man  who  is  no  more  than  a  whited 
sepulchre  of  deceit  and  revolting  crime — that  would 
be  to  sap  life  at  its  spring  and  tear  up  the  heart  by 
its  roots.  Oh,  Mr.  Outhwaite,  forgetting  all  womanly 
delicacy,  forgetting  everything  but  your  forbearance 
and  the  confidence  with  which  you  inspire  me,  I  have 
poured  out  my  soul  before  you.  Prove  to  me  that 
this  man  is  good — moral  in  his  instincts,  I  mean, 
except  when  the  evil  spirit  has  a  grip  upon  him — 
and  I  will  bless  you  as  the  saviour  of  my  self-respect. 
But  if  you  cannot, —  here  she  turned  pale  and 
tottered, — "then  do  not  expect  me  to  survive.  I 
— I — could  not." 

The  alternative  was  a  bitter  one.  I  did  not  see  at 
that  moment  how  she  could  expect,  still  less  how  I 
could  perform,  such  a  miracle.  But  I  could  not  see 
her  depart  without  some  gleam  of  encouragement, 
and  so  I  told  her  that  if  the  tide  turned  so  as  to  free 
Alfred  from  suspicion  and  land  Leighton  in  the  courts, 
I  would  embrace  the  opportunity  thus  offered  to  do 
all  that  lay  in  my  power  to  prove  her  theory  a  true 
one. 

And  with  this  understanding  between  us  she  went 
away,  leaving  me  to  take  up,  with  what  courage  I 
could,  my  own  broken  and  disjointed  life. 


XXIV 

AN  OLD  CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED 

THIS  idea  as  advanced  by  Hope  was  fantastical 
to  a  degree ;  yet  it  made  its  impression  upon 
me  and  was  still  in  my  mind  when  I  opened  the  even 
ing  paper  for  the  latest  news  concerning  the  Gillespie 
murder.  The  first  paragraph  I  encountered  proved 
that  I  had  not  warned  her  an  hour  too  soon  of  Leigh- 
ton  Gillespie's  position. 

"Fresh  disclosures  in  the  Gillespie  Poisoning  Case. 
Leighton  Gillespie,  long  regarded  as  the  most  respect 
able  and  hitherto  best-esteemed  son  of  the  murdered 
man,  discovered  to  have  been  for  years  the  owner, 
and  at  times  the  occupant,  of  a  little  house  in  one 
of  the  Oranges,  where,  unknown  to  the  world  at 
large " 

Here  followed  some  open  allusions  to  Mille-fleurs. 

Other  statements  were  added  to  this,  among  them 
a  r£sum£  of  the  facts  advanced  to  me  the  evening 
before  by  Rosenthal.  At  the  end  were  these  lines : 

"The  District  Attorney  has  the  whole  matter  in 
charge,  and  the  public  is  promised  some  decided 
action  to-morrow. ' ' 

I  folded  the  paper,  put  it  in  my  pocket,  and  went 
directly  to  Dr.  Bennett's  office. 

239 


240  THE  MAN 

I  had  not  seen  the  good  physician  since  the 
inquest,  and  naturally  the  sight  of  his  face  recalled 
the  strange  and  moving  incidents  which  had  first 
brought  us  together.  But  I  made  no  allusion  to 
these  past  experiences,  and  his  first  remark  was 
wholly  professional. 

"I  hope  it  is  not  as  a  patient  I  see  you,  Mr. 
Outhwaite?" 

With  a  shake  of  the  head, I  took  out  the  newspaper 
I  had  been  careful  to  bring  with  me,  and  pointed 
out  the  paragraph  concerning  Leighton  and  Mille- 
fleurs. 

"Is  this  news  to  you?"  I  asked.  "I  make  the 
inquiry  solely  in  the  interests  of  Miss  Meredith, 
who  has  hitherto  had  unbounded  confidence  in  this 
cousin." 

He  glanced  at  the  lines,  frowned,  and  then  with  a 
pained  look,  replied : 

"I  do  not  believe  this  of  Leighton.  He  of  all  Mr. 
Gillespie's  sons  is  the  furthest  removed  from  the 
suspicion  connecting  them  with  the  crime  which 
has  wrecked  their  good  name.  He  is  incapable  of 
any  serious  wrong- doing  ;  incapable  even  of  what 
these  lines  suggest.  I  have  known  him  from  his 
birth." 

I  would  gladly  have  left  this  kind-hearted  phy 
sician  in  undisturbed  possession  of  this  confidence, 
but  the  situation  was  too  serious  to  trifle  with. 

"He  enjoys  a  good  name,"  I  allowed,  "and  has 
even  been  known  to  exert  himself  in  many  acts  of 
benevolence  towards  the  unfortunate  and  the  suffer 
ing.  But  some  natures,  and  they  are  frequently 


AN  OLD   CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED      241 

those  from  which  most  is  to  be  expected,  have  a 
reverse  side,  which  will  not  bear  the  scrutiny  either 
of  their  friends  or  the  world  at  large.  Leighton  Gil- 
lespie  has  one  of  these  natures.  This  story  of  the 
little  house  is  true." 

The  doctor,  who  was  evidently  heart  and  soul  with 
this  family,  showed  a  distress  at  this  avowal  which 
spoke  well  for  the  hold  which  this  especial  member 
of  it  had  upon  his  affections. 

Seeing  that,  while  not  ready  to  question  my  word, 
he  was  anxious  to  know  the  sources  of  my  informa 
tion,  I  was  about  to  enter  upon  the  necessary  ex 
planations,  when  he  forestalled  me  by  saying: 

"There  have  always  been  unexplained  traits  in 
this  man.  He  stands  alone  among  the  other  mem 
bers  of  the  family.  He  has  neither  the  social  quali 
ties  of  George  nor  the  luxurious  tastes  of  Alfred.  Nor 
is  he  like  his  father.  I,  who  knew  his  mother  well, 
have  no  difficulty  in  attributing  to  their  correct 
source  the  religious  tendencies  which  form  so  dis 
tinct  a  part  of  his  character.  But  the  melancholy 
which  pervades  his  life  is  not  an  inheritance,  but  the 
result  of  nervous  shock  incident  upon  an  extreme 
grief  in  early  life,  and  while  I  do  not  profess  to  under 
stand  him  or  the  many  peculiarities  to  which  his 
father  rightfully  raised  objection,  I  am  positive  that 
he  will  never  be  found  guilty  of  a  depraved  act.  I 
am  ready  to  stake  my  reputation  on  it." 

"You  should  talk  with  Miss  Meredith,"  I  sug 
gested.  "She  believes,  or  endeavours  to  believe, 
in  him  also.  But  even  she  finds  herself  forced  to 
accept  the  truth  of  this  report.  The  facts  favouring 

16 


242  THE  MAN 

it  are  too  unmistakable.  I  can  myself  supply  evid 
ence  enough  to  make  his  guilt  in  this  regard  quite 
sure." 

And,  without  preamble,  I  entered  upon  a  detailed 
account  of  the  discoveries  made  by  me  at  Mother 
Merry's.  They  were,  as  you  well  know,  convincing 
in  their  nature,  and  allowed  but  two  conclusions  to 
be  drawn.  Either  Leighton  Gillespie  was  a  monster 
of  hypocrisy  or  he  was  the  victim  of  the  mental  de 
rangement  so  fondly  suggested  by  Hope. 

This  last  explanation  I  left  to  the  perspicacity  of 
the  trained  physician.  Would  he  seize  upon  it  as  she 
did?  Or  would  he  fail  to  see  in  these  results  any 
symptoms  of  the  strange  mental  malady  alluded  to 
by  Hope?  I  watched  him  anxiously.  Evidently  no 
such  explanation  was  likely  to  suggest  itself  to  him 
unaided.  Indeed,  his  next  words  proved  how  far 
any  such  conclusion  was  from  his  mind. 

"You  overwhelm  me,"  said  he.  "It  was  hard 
enough  to  look  upon  George  or  Alfred  as  capable  of 
a  crime  so  despicable,  but  Leighton! — I  shall  have 
to  readjust  all  my  memories  and  all  my  fancied  rela 
tions  with  this  family  if  he  is  to  be  looked  upon  with 
suspicion.  Then  there  is  Claire!" 

"Pardon  me,"  I  ventured,  in  vague  apology  for 
an  interruption  which  seemed  out  of  place  from  a 
stranger.  "Have  you  looked  upon  Leighton  as  a 
well  man?  You  speak  of  a  great  grief " 

"The  loss  of  his  wife." 

"I  supposed  so.  Now,  could  this  grief  have  dis 
turbed  the  even  balance  of  his  mind  so  as  to  make 
these  abnormal  developments  possible?  Did  he  show 


AN  OLD   CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED       243 

the  inconsistencies  you  mention  prior  to  the  event  you 
speak  of?  It  might  be  well  to  inquire." 

"Insanity?"  he  intimated.  "Will  that  be  the 
plea?" 

"Do  you  think  it  can  be  advanced?  He  has  not 
yet  been  arrested  or  even  openly  accused,  but  I  am 
confident  he  will  be,  and  soon,  and  it  is  well  for  his 
friends  to  be  prepared." 

"That  is  a  question  I  cannot  answer  without  seri 
ous  thought,"  rejoined  the  doctor,  restlessly  pacing 
the  room.  "Intimately  as  I  have  been  associated 
with  him  I  have  never  for  a  moment  felt  myself  called 
upon  to  doubt  his  perfect  sanity.  Does  Miss  Mere 
dith  regard  his  eccentricities  in  this  light?" 

"Miss  Meredith's  inherent  belief  in  the  goodness  of 
this  favourite  cousin  leads  her  to  give  him  the  bene 
fit  of  her  doubts.  She  regards  him  as  a  man  cursed 
by  recurrent  aberrations  of  mind;  in  other  words,  a 
victim  of  double  consciousness." 

" Hope  does?  What  does  she  know  about  the  nice 
distinctions  governing  this  peculiar  condition?  She 
must  have  brought  all  her  imagination  to  bear  on  the 
subject,  to  find  such  an  excuse  for  his  contradictory 
actions.  This  argues  a  great  partiality  for  him  on 
her  part.  She  must  be  in  love  with  Leighton." 

I  was  silent. 

The  doctor's  amazement  was  very  genuine. 

"Well,  I  never  suspected  her  of  any  such  prefer 
ence.  I  have  had  an  idea  at  times  that  she  favoured 
Alfred  rather  than  George,  but  I  never  thought  of 
her  being  caught  by  Leighton 's  melancholy  counte 
nance  and  eccentric  ways.  Well  !  women  are  an 


244  THE  MAN 

incomprehensible  lot!  The  only  widower  amongst 
the  three !  The  only  one  not  likely  to  be  affected  by 
her  partiality.  But  that  's  neither  here  nor  there. 
It  's  her  theory  we  are  interested  in.  A  strange  one ! 
A  very  strange  one!" 

Suddenly  he  grew  thoughtful.  "But  not  an  im 
possible  one,"  was  his  final  comment.  "  The  shock  he 
sustained  might  account  for  almost  anything.  Such 
restrained  natures  have  great  depths  and  are  subject 
to  great  reactions!  I  must  study  the  case;  I  can 
give  no  offhand  opinion  upon  it.  The  contradic 
tions  observable  in  his  conduct  are  not  normal  and 
certainly  show  disease.  What  was  the  question  you 
asked  me?"  he  suddenly  inquired.  "Whether  he 
showed  his  present  peculiarities  prior  to  the  death  of 
his  wife?  I  don't  think  he  did;  really,  I  don't  think 
he  did.  He  was  reserved  in  his  ways,  unhappy,  out 
of  tune  with  his  father  because  that  father  failed  to 
appreciate  the  daughter-in-law  he  had  foisted  upon 
him,  but  he  showed  these  feelings  naturally  and  not 
at  all  as  he  showed  them  later.  Have  you  heard  the 
current  gossip  concerning  his  marriage?" 

"Not  at  all,  save  that  it  was  an  unfortunate  one 
and  created,  as  you  say,  a  certain  barrier  between 
him  and  his  father." 

"Yes,  it  was  an  unfortunate  one;  the  whole  thing 
was  unfortunate.  So  much  so  that  his  friends  felt 
a  decided  relief  when  young  Mrs.  Gillespie  died. 
But  her  husband  regarded  this  loss  as  an  irreparable 
one;  he  was  wrapped  up  in  her  when  she  was  alive, 
and,  as  you  now  call  to  mind,  has  never  been  the  same 
man  since  her  death.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he 


AN  OLD   CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED       245 


had  no  outlet  for  his  grief.  His  father  would  not 
hear  her  name  mentioned,  and  little  Claire  was  too 
young  to  even  remember  her  mother.  Fortunately, 
perhaps." 

The  last  words  were  said  in  his  throat,  and  opened 
up  a  wide  abyss  of  possibilities  into  which  I  had  not 
the  curiosity  to  penetrate.  I  only  felt  impelled  to 
ask: 

"Was  her  death  attended  with  any  unusual  cir 
cumstance  that  you  speak  of  his  sorrow  as  a  shock?" 

For  reply  he  went  to  his  desk,  and  after  some  fum 
bling  brought  out  several  slips  of  paper,  from  among 
which  he  chose  one  which  he  passed  over  to  me. 

"I  have  kept  this  account  of  a  very  tragic  occur 
rence,  for  reasons  you  will  appreciate  on  reading  it." 

I  took  the  slip  and  perused  it.  With  no  apology  for 
its  length,  I  introduce  it  here.  As  you  will  see,  it  is 
an  engineer's  account  of  the  extraordinary  accident 
which  took  place  on  the  B.,  F.  and  D.  road  some  half- 
dozen  years  ago.  It  begins  abruptly,  the  extract 
having  been  closely  clipped  from  the  columns  of  the 
paper  containing  it : 


jmhnail. 
/ear  to 

ith  was 
Burning 
om,  and 

e  Cath- 


Big  Hill  is  only  twelve  miles  long  and 
has  a  grade  averaging  140  feet  to  the 
mile,  and  the  principal  part  of  the  grade 
is  in  spots.  Six  loaded  cars  made  a 
train  up  this  hill,  and  the  train  of  six 
cars  was  hauled  and  pushed  up  the 
grade  by  two  engines.  My  engine  was 
stationed  permanently  on  the  hill,  and 
its  duty  was  to  couple  to  the  back  end 
of  one  of  these  trains  and  help  it  up  the 
grade. 


7: 

month 
Alpine 
Tighen 

72. 

724 

ceeded 

King  o? 

72 

— "Coi 

72' 


246 


THE  MAN 


it  Inn- 
40). 
t8,  and 

that  is, 

:h  along 
Britons, 

i). 

Congal 
>f  the 
Icolm] 

753). 

760). 
i.   Ult., 


754). 


'lends 


and 
ag  of 
;ar  to 

ed  and 


is,  i.  e.t 
y  seas 


At  the  top  of  the  hill  was  a  side-track 
called  Acton,  but  no  telegraph  operator 
was  stationed  there.  At  the  foot  of  the 
grade  was  Buckley,  a  telegraph  office 
in  the  centre  of  a  big  si  de-track  system 
used  for  breaking  up  trains  before  send 
ing  them  up  the  grade  in  sections. 
Eight  miles  below  Buckley  was  an  aban 
doned  mining  town  named  Camp- 
ton.  Here  was  a  set  of  side-tracks 
and  switches  and  a  dozen  unoccupied 
miners'  shanties,  while  the  disused 
telegraph  office  was  occupied  by  a 
one-legged  pensioner  of  the  company — 
a  flagman — and  his  nineteen-year-old 
daughter.  Twelve  miles  further  down 
the  line  was  Mountain  Springs,  now  one 
of  the  foremost  summer  resorts  in  the 
mountains,  and  even  twenty  years  ago 
much  frequented  by  Eastern  health- 
seekers.  I  explain  this  so  that  you 
will  readily  understand  what  happened. 

We  had  run  No.  17  up  the  hill  and 
were  ordered  on  to  the  side-track  at 
Acton  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  No.,  n, 
the  through  train  from  the  South  that 
was  coming  North  as  a  double-header, 
and  with  a  third  big  engine  pushing  her. 
No.  1 1  was  a  regular,  but  was  making 
this  trip  as  an  excursion  train,  and  was 
made  up  of  eight  coaches,  crowded  with 
people  from  Mountain  Springs. 

As  the  freight  we  were  shoving  came 
to  a  stand-still,  my  fireman  leaped  to 
the  ground  and  uncoupled  the  engine 
from  the  last  car,  and  I  backed  down 
over  the  switch  and  then  ran  ahead  on 
the  side-track.  While  this  was  being 


adds — 
leven  d 
Angus. 

7.' 

Dalri- 
thre^ 
time 
"Bat 
riads  i 
Ainfcel 

73. 
drownei 

Tighern 

73? 
(An.  U' 

7' 
rechtf 

7 

adds— 

75. 

Tolarga 
with  th» 
in  whicl 

75; 

in  lonj 
Circi,  t 
was  sla 
754 
759 
761 

76. 
762). 
76( 
76: 
76* 
77: 

72, 


AN  OLD   CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED       247 


on  tne 
93). 

>6). 
slain. — 

i  mac 
e  two 
n  the 

'Man- 
in  un- 
clat  [or 
:o). 

adds — 
^rte  by 

slain, 
ion  of 

mber. 
o   (An. 


Faelchu 
rth  year 
i  day. — 

ic  com- 
•   king. 

.  Min- 

ity  of 

which 
ittle  of 
ac  with 


done,  a  brakeman  had  cut  the  train 
in  front  of  the  last  two  cars,  and  the 
regular  engine  in  front  had  started 
ahead  with  the  other  cars  towards  the 
north  switch  to  back  the  four  cars  in 
on  the  spur. 

As  I  shut  off  steam  and  centred  the 
reverse  lever  I  saw  that  the  two  cars 
were  moving  slowly  down  the  hill,  and 
I  watched  them  only  long  enough  to 
see  the  rear  brake-man  clamber  up  the 
side-ladder  and  seize  the  brake-wheel. 
Then  I  tried  the  water  in  the  boiler, 
started  the  injector,  and  again  glanced 
at  the  cars.  Evidently  the  brake  on  the 
first  car  was  out  of  order,  as  the  cars 
were  moving  more  rapidly,  and  the 
brakeman  was  hastening  towards  the 
brake  on  the  second  car.  He  grasped 
it  and  swung  around,  and  nearly  fell  to 
the  ground.  The  brake-chain  was  bro 
ken,  and  there  was  nothing  to  hold  the 
cars. 

In  an  instant  the  picture  of  an  awful 
horror  flashed  before  my  eyes.  No.  n, 
crowded  with  passengers,  was  coming, 
and  those  cars,  running  at  terrific  speed, 
would  crash  into  the  train,  carrying 
death  and  destruction  to  scores,  if  not 
hundreds.  The  scene  at  the  moment 
the  realisation  of  the  impending  disas 
ter  came  over  me  is  before  me  now  as 
plainly  as  on  that  day,  nearly  five  years 
ago, — the  moving  cars,  the  brakeman 
stumbling  towards  the  side-ladder  to 
descend,  the  fireman,  who  was  more 
than  a  little  deaf,  walking  away  without 
seeing  or  hearing  what  had  occurred, 


622. 

of  Cerba 
Breacc  i 
Bimudir 

The  res] 
The  sto 
The  wo- 
And  the 

623 

624. 

627. 

was  vict» 
Dalriada 

629. 

Cruithne 
slain,  ar 
grandsc 
Each) , 

of  his 
(son  o 
buide  ', 

63 
was  coi 

631 
Tigherm 

634 
Death  o 

635 

and  Cui 
— "Ga: 

63 
put  to . 

64: 
of  lona 

642 


248 


THE  MAN 


idach, '  and,  in  his  place,  a  man  (I  had  almost 

.  Ult.    said    a    gentleman)     standing   by    the 

switch-staff    and    gazing    towards   the 

Angus    cars  with  eyes  that   reflected   the  hor- 

f  Alpin    ror  in  my  own ;  while  thirty   miles  be- 

»en  the    low,  on  the  line  of  the  twisted,  winding 

Alpin,    track,  a  faint  blur  of  smoke  that  told 

tained    me  No.  1 1  had  left  Mountain  Springs. 

Before  the  moving  cars  crossed  the 

issine.    switch  we  all  knew  what  must  be  done. 

aigus,    The  man,  who  for  all  his  good  clothes, 

nth  of    must  have  been  some  fireman  off  duty, 

;ar  the    had  thrown  the  switch,  and  then,  see- 

md  the    ing  that  my  own  man  was  too  far  off 

>.d  Fin-    to  meet  this  emergency,  had  swung  him- 

Angus   self  on  to  the  foot -board   back  of  the 

tank;  and  old  105  was  in  pursuit  of  the 

he  son    runaways. 

.1.    Ult.        The  brakeman  remained  to  close  the 

switch    and  the   stranger  was  bracing 

?  where    himself   to  couple   the  engine    to    the 

son  of    swift-moving    cars    when     we    should 

d  adds   approach  them. 

No  steam   is    ever  used  going  down 
that  hill;  at  the  top  of  the  incline  the 
ind  the   throttle-valve  is  closed  and   the  speed 
nbhcel-    of  the  train    is    controlled  by  the  air- 
fleet  of   brake.    But,  as  the  stranger  who  had 
sland  of    boarded  the  engine  took  his  stand  on 
the  foot-board,  I   opened   the  throttle 
:  Brain;   wide  to  give  her  a  start,   then  put  on 
ilriada,   the  air  until  I  had  her  under  control, 
^crated   and  then  away  we  went.   The  runaway 
•  island    cars  were  fully  one  hundred  yards  ahead 
of  the   as  we    crossed    the    switch,   and  were 
moving  apparently  at  the  rate  of  eight 
nto  the    or  ten   miles  an  hour  with  rapidly  in- 
•33,  and   creasing  momentum.     In  sixty  seconds 


continu. 

chronic! 

All 

both  tb 


A.] 

Dalriadi 

505- 
Innisfalli 

520. 
Tighern; 

538 
of  his  n 

Albanic 

Tighen 
56 

of  his  .• 

5' 
Diarnr. 

55 

yea,r  ol 

573;    I1 
son  of  C 
Tigherng 

580 
adds — " 

58" 
Tigher 

5J 
(An.  T 

589).  ' 

59« 

thirty-f 
nac  (Ai 


AN  OLD   CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED 


249 


OOSJ. 

Ision    of 

ilriada. 
i.rch  of 

•.tores 

id  the 

Calis- 

677). 

10,  and 

jac  (An 

•  (679). 
musaigb 

nd  adds 


?2,  and 

ibbath 

;h  year 

i,  King 

of  the 

he  date 

n  Ollaig 

aig  mac 
i.(  688). 
death  of 

died.— 

ic   (An. 
Con act 


old  105  was  running  fifty  miles  an  hour, 
and  in  thirty  seconds  more  we  were 
close  to  the  cars.  I  heard  the  voice 
of  the  man  in  front  shouting  some 
thing,  and  knowing  that  it  was  to  slow 
down  in  order  to  approach  the  cars 
without  a  crash,  I  applied  the  air.  A 
slight  jolt  told  me  that  the  engine  and 
car  had  come  together,  and  after  wait 
ing  an  instant  to  give  my  unknown 
assistant  time  to  drop  the  pin  in  place,  I 
pulled  the  air-valve  to  lessen  the  speed. 
As  the  engine  slowed  under  the  pres 
sure  of  the  brake,  I  saw  the  cars  glide 
away  from  us.  He  had  missed  the  coup 
ling.  Again  engine  and  cars  came  to 
gether  and  again  I  applied  the  air,  with 
the  same  result. 

We  were  running  now  at  a  speed  of 
sixty  or  seventy  miles  an  hour,  and 
when  you  consider  that  the  track  on 
the  hill  is  the  crookedest  ever  surveyed 
by  an  engineer,  cut  up  by  deep  ravines 
and  canons,  and  leading  along  high 
precipices,  you  can  appreciate  the  dan 
ger  of  the  run.  Down  the  hill  we 
thundered,  swinging  through  deep  cuts 
and  around  sharp  curves,  the  engine 
swaying  and  swinging  on  her  springs 
as  if  struggling  in  an  effort  to  dash  her 
self  into  one  of  the  gorges  lining  the 
track.  The  engine  was  surrounded  by 
rolling  clouds  of  dust,  through  which  at 
times  I  caught  glimpses  of  the  cars  pitch 
ing  and  tossing  like  some  dismantled 
vessel  in  a  storm  at  sea.  I  knew  the 
cars  might  jump  the  track  at  any  mo 
ment  and  ditch  the  locomotive,  send- 


in  which 
King  of 

660 

663 

Dohmn 
Ult.,    6 

66 

6< 
(An. 

( 
[Skye 

6 
and  C 

67 

67- 
Drost  fi 

673 
Voyage 

Aporcr 

6- 
drowr 

( 

Brita 
tros,  1 
Slaugl. 
battles 

671 
Ult.,  67 

68c 

681 

mac  Aii 
— "Siej 

68- 

68 
adds— 

6 
dav.  •' 


250 


THE  MAN 


illsech 
cdach 

.,  who 

lets. — 
). 
.hernac. 


cc  were 
nunity 

of  the 
ritons. 

.hernac 

.,649). 
c    (An. 

),King 

of  the 

i)  were 
i  Etairt 
i).—  An. 

of  Delen 

g  of  the 
da,  was 

ind  the 
(son  of 
tighter 


ing  the  fireman  and  myself  to  quick 
death;  but  we  must  take  the  chances 
so  long  as  there  was  a  possibility  of 
stopping  the  runaways. 

Again  and  again  we  tried  to  make  the 
coupling,  but  failed  each  time.  I  did 
not  know,  until  all  was  over,  the  difficul 
ties  which  the  stranger  was  experien 
cing.  The  drawhead  in  the  car  was  the 
old-fashioned  single-link  bumper, — a 
man-killer  we  call  it  now, — and  was  so 
loose  in  its  socket  that  it  had  to  be 
raised  six  or  eight  inches  and  held  in 
position  \fhile  the  link  was  being  put  in 
place.  This  required  two  hands,  and 
as  he  could  not  maintain  his  position 
on  the  swaying  foot-board  without  us 
ing  one  hand  to  cling  to  the  handrail, 
he  could  not  get  the  link  in  place  and 
drop  the  pin  through  it. 

By  this  time  we  were  within  three 
miles  of  Buckley.  As  the  locomotive 
and  fleeting  cars  dashed  across  a  trestle 
one  hundred  feet  high,  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  little  telegraph  shanty 
down  in  the  valley,  surrounded  by  a 
network  of  rails.  I  opened  the  whistle 
and  kept  it  shrieking  until  we  were 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  Buckley, 
but  no  one  appeared  on  the  station 
platform;  and  as  we  flashed  past  the 
telegraph  office  the  white  face  of  the 
operator,  his  eyes  wide  open  with  alarm 
and  horror,  appeared  at  the  window  for 
the  fraction  of  an  instant. 

'  As  we  dashed  past  the  telegraph  office 
the  long  arm  of  the  signal-board  pointed 
down,  and  I  thanked  God  that  the  next 


Hit.,  7: 
his  kinj 
reigns  a 

727 

grandsc 
(726). 

72 

and  Al; 
was  th> 
Piccarc 
and  his 
the  kin} 

725 

Battle  . 
King  c 

Auguf 

mars' 

offic 

gui- 

wei 

of  I 

(729, 

the  Ci 

Congu 

— "Bi 

7 

begi 
lach 
the  1 
Hoie, 
and  m 
and  Cc 
Toraic  M 
of  Culrei 


AN  OLD   CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED        2$l 


th  year 

<  of  the 
Picts  . — 

ad  year 
(son  of 

xteentb 

m.  Ult., 

Conaill 

,  fell.— 

79,  also 

ious. — 

jhernac 

In.  Ult., 

June,  the 
— Tigher- 

n,  son  ol 
Ian,  i.  e., 
in  which 

s  age. — 


ther  ol 
hernac 


us  reigr 
(It.,  605 


block  was  still  open,  and  that  we  had 
another  chance  for  life.  We  had  eight 
miles  of  clear  track  and  might  yet 
prevent  a  disaster.  The  only  hope, 
however,  was  in  catching  the  runaway 
cars,  as  there  was  no  telegraph  office  at 
Campton  and  No.  1 1  had  left  Mountain 
Springs  and  was  booming  towards  us 
as  fast  as  three  big  engines  could  send 
her,  and  without  a  stop  ahead. 

We  crossed  the  half-mile  of  side 
tracks  at  Buckley  so  fast  that  there  was 
an  unbroken  rattle  of  clanking  rails, 
and  swung  around  the  point  of  the 
mountain  and  down  the  winding  track 
towards  Campton.  Over  swaying  bridg 
es,  through  cuts,  old  105  jolted  us 
along  at  the  rate  of  seventy  or 
eighty  miles  an  hour.  In  two  minutes 
after  crossing  the  yards  at  Buckley  we 
were  within  sight  of  Campton,  nestling 
below  us  in  the  valley.  The  man  on  the 
foot-board  had  been  silent  seemingly 
for  hours,  and  whether  he  was  still  at 
his  post  or  had  fallen  on  the  rails  and 
been  ground  to  pieces,  I  did  not  know. 
I  realised  now  that  there  was  no  lon 
ger  a  possibility  of  stopping  the  cars 
by  coupling  to  them,  and  what  my 
hope  was,  if  I  had  any  at  all,  I  do  not 
know;  there  was  only  a  mad  determin 
ation  to  follow  those  runaway  cars  to 
the  end  and  die  with  the  rest. 

As  the  roofs  of  Campton  came  into 
view  the  whistle  began  to  sound  again. 
Three  miles  below  lay  the  half-deserted 
mining  camp;  now  I  could  see  the  rough 
board  station,  the  red  and  white  switch 


69* 
mac  Cc 

69; 
Ireland 

69' 

slain,  v 
of  DUJ 
carriec 

70 
both. — 

704 

Adomna 
ninth  of 

706 

707 

709. 
An.  Ult. 

710. 
Failbi.  A 


sons  of  I 
island. 

711 

onn"J 
timely 
Longe< 

7i 

"  Burn 
Selbhat 

71: 

Dorheni 
the  pri- 
Tolarg 
Ult.,  7. 


mac  Do 


252 


THE  MAN 


\  of  the 
iy,  and 
i  short 
adds — 
ne  Dal- 
J  son  of 

"). 

in,  was 

-two. — 


nf  rith) , 


ne,  and 
ac    (An. 


hernac 
i  Scith 
Starnan 

.  third 
.11  mac 
.ona. — 


i.g  suc- 
••htan], 

i  adds 
ed."). 
ac  (An. 
id  from 
Elphin 


targets, and  the  dark  spots  on  the  moun 
tain-side  that  marked  the  abandoned 
test-shafts.  Then  I  distinguished  a 
form  on  the  station  platform,  a  slender 
form  in  dark  calico  and  wearing  a  sun- 
bonnet.  The  woman's  back  was  to 
wards  me,  but  I  knew  her  to  be  Nettie 
Bascom,  the  daughter  of  the  one-legged 
flagman.  It  was  ten  seconds,  perhaps, 
before  the  girl  heard  the  whistle;  then 
she  turned  slowly,  looking  an  instant 
towards  us,  and,  with  a  quick  spring, 
was  at  a  switch-stand  and  had  thrown 
the  lever,  and  the  white  of  the  target 
turned  to  red  and  we  were  safe.  But 
not  so  the  passenger  train.  The  cars 
had  passed  over  the  switch  before  it 
could  be  turned,  and  in  another  mo 
ment  the  sound  of  its  bounding  wheels, 
our  own  cries,  and  all  the  other  noises  of 
the  dreadful  moment,  were  drowned  by 
an  explosion  that  lifted  old  105  off  the 
rails  and  laid  everyone  within  sight  insen 
sible  on  the  road.  Those  cars  which  we 
had  chased  unavailingly  for  thirty  miles 
or  more  were  laden  with  dynamite,  and 
when  they  crashed  into  that  train 


Do  you  ask  about  the  man  who  shared 
my  peril,  and  all  to  so  little  purpose  ?  I 
can  tell  you  nothing  about  him.  Wheth 
er  my  former  conclusion  was  correct 
and  he  had  been  shaken  from  his  nar 
row  hold  into  some  ditch  or  gully,  or 
whether  he  was  hurled  to  destruction 
at  the  time  of  the  explosion,  I  cannot 
say.  I  only  know  that  I  never  saw 
him  again  alive  or  dead. 

Below  was  added  a  line  by  the  editor: 


6s-- 

Ult.,     6; 

653 

of  the  1 

654 

Cruithn 
slain, 
where  ' 
Ult.  (6 

65 
77^ 

780 
of  Janu 

7? 

7 

Muret 
Conna 
island 

78 
escape* 

7? 

75 
Norse) . 

79* 
Tigherr 

71 

munit; 
Conflic 
vircc,  a 

7U 
I  on  a. — '; 

719 

Ainbhce 
Airdean 
the  tribt 
in  which 

721. 


AN  OLD    CATASTROPHE  IS  RECALLED 


253 


nd,  son 

imhnall 

owned. 

i. 

r  bene) 

King  of 


This  is  an  offhand  relation  of  the 
catastrophe  in  which  Mrs.  Leighton 
Gillespie  lost  her  life.  She  will  be  re 
membered  by  New  York  aristocracy  as 
the  brilliant,  if  eccentric,  daughter-in- 
law  of  Archibald  Gillespie,  the  multi 
millionaire. 


6ot 

Etalfrai 
Battle  i 
60 
6c 

and  st 
An.  Ii 


I  returned  the  slip  to  Dr.  Bennett.  The  excite 
ment  of  that  wild  ride  was  upon  me,  and  I  seemed 
to  have  been  present  at  the  catastrophe  it  was  in 
tended  to  avert. 

"  Mountain  Springs  is  in  the  West,  I  judge.  How 
came  the  Gillespies  there,  and  why  was  she  the  sole 
sufferer?  Was  he  not  on  the  train  with  her?" 

"That  is  one  of  the  peculiar  features  of  the  affair. 
He  was  not  on  the  train,  but  he  turned  up  at  the 
wreck.  Those  who  saw  him  there  say  that  he  worked 
like  a  giant,  nay,  like  a  Titan,  amongst  those  ghastly 
ruins.  Finally  he  found  her.  She  was  quite  dead. 
After  that  he  worked  no  more.  It  is  a  story  of  un 
mitigated  horror,  and  the  agonies  of  that  awful  find 
ing  might  well  leave  an  indelible  impression  on  his 
brain." 

"I  am  glad  you  recognise  this  possibility.  The 
effect  of  such  a  scene,  even  where  no  personal  inter 
ests  are  involved,  often  leaves  a  man's  nerves  in  a 
shaken  condition  for  years.  Besides — forgive  me 
if  I  press  my  theory  beyond  all  reason — another 
possibility  has  been  suggested  to  me  by  this  engin 
eer's  tale.  I  will  not  broach  it  just  yet,  but  inquire 
first  how  Leighton  Gillespie  was  able  to  reach  the 
scene  of  the  wreck  so  quickly.  Did  he  hasten  down 


254  THE  MAN 

from  the  Springs,  which  seem  to  have  been  some 
miles  away,  or  was  he  in  the  vicinity  of  the  accident 
when  it  occurred?" 

"That  is  a  question  I  have  never  heard  answered. 
But  I  long  ago  concluded  that  he  was  not  far  from 
the  place  where  the  collision  occurred,  for  he  was 
seen  there  as  soon  as  the  smoke  lifted.  Why,  what 
now?  You  seem  moved — excited.  Has  any  new 
idea  been  suggested  to  you? " 

I  exerted  myself  to  speak  calmly,  but  did  not 
succeed. 

"Yes,"  I  cried,  "a  strange,  a  thrilling  idea.  What 
if  the  man  who  shared  this  engineer's  awful  ride  was 
Leighton  Gillespie,  and  what  if  he  knew  through  all 
that  headlong  rush,  that  the  wife  he  so  much  loved 
was  in  the  train  he  was  risking  his  life  to  save  from 
destruction?" 


XXV 

A    SUMMONS 

THE  doctor's  emotion  equalled  mine. 
"It  may  have  been  so,"  he  admitted.  "There 
was  always  some  unexplained  mystery  in  connec 
tion  with  his  presence  at  the  wreck  and  the  reticence 
he  maintained  in  regard  to  it.  If  what  you  suggest 
is  true  and  he  was  the  man  who  shared  the  engineer's 
ride  down  those  precipitous  slopes  to  the  rescue  of  a 
train  on  which  he  knew  his  wife  to  be,  it  will  be  easy 
enough  for  us  to  start  a  plea  of  mental  derangement. 
No  one  could  go  through  such  an  adventure,  with  its 
over-powering  excitement  and  unspeakable  suspense, 
without  some  injury  to  his  mental  or  physical  health. 
But  it  is  hard  to  conceive  how  Leighton  Gillespie 
should  have  been  wandering  on  the  mountain-side 
that  day  instead  of  taking  the  excursion  with  his 
wife." 

"I  don't  advance  this  explanation  as  a  fact,  only 
as  a  possibility,"  I  replied.  "The  shock  of  his  wife's 
sudden  death  would  be  enough  in  itself  to  change 
the  man." 

"  Yes,  and  it  did  change  him ;  to  that  I  can  swear." 

"How  long  a  time  elapsed  after  this  catastrophe 
before  you  saw  him?" 

"Just  two  days.     He  telegraphed  for  me,  and  I 
255 


256  THE   MAN 

went  West  to  assist  him  in  bringing  home  the  remains 
of  his  young  wife.  I  remember  finding  him  in  a 
strained,  nervous  condition;  this  was  natural  enough; 
but  his  worst  symptoms  disappeared  after  the 
funeral." 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  where  this  funeral  took 
place?" 

"  In  a  small  place  up  the  Hudson  River,  where  the 
Gillespies  have  a  country  home.  Mr.  Gillespie  car 
ried  his  feeling  against  his  daughter-in-law  so  far  as 
not  to  wish  to  have  her  buried  from  his  New  York 
house." 

"I  suppose  so;  another  reason,  perhaps,  why 
Leighton  has  never  recovered  from  this  blow.  And 
little  Claire?  You  have  not  mentioned  her.  Was 
she  with  her  parents  when  this  disastrous  event 
occurred  ? ' ' 

"She  was  but  an  infant,  and  from  her  very  birth 
was  given  into  the  charge  of  her  grandfather.  She 
never  knew  her  mother." 

It  would  have  been  a  satisfaction  to  me  to  have 
learned  the  cause  of  the  determined  hostility  on  the 
part  of  a  man  seemingly  so  just  as  Mr.  Gillespie;  but 
the  doctor  gave  me  no  encouragement  in  this  direction, 
and  I  merely  said : 

"We  have  made  a  start  in  case  the  necessity  arises 
for  proving  him  to  be  no  longer  responsible  for  his 
actions.  But  only  a  start.  The  direction  taken  by 
his  mania  is  perilously  like  the  excesses  of  a  discour 
aged  and  reckless  man." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  In  his  sane  mind, 
Leighton  Gillespie  is  a  great  respecter  of  the  rights 


A    SUMMONS  257 

of  other  people.  I  shall  look  into  this  subject,  Mr. 
Outhwaite ;  I  shall  look  into  it  at  once.  A  half-hour's 
talk  with  him  will  satisfy  me  whether  he  is  a  victim 
of  disease  or  the  prey  of  unbridled  passions  and  mur 
derous  instincts." 

The  good  doctor  rose  with  every  appearance  of 
starting  forth  then  and  there. 

"  But  you  have  had  no  dinner,"  I  suggested. 

"  I  want  none." 

I  accompanied  the  doctor  out,  but  parted  with 
him  at  the  corner.  I  would  have  given  much  for 
the  privilege  of  going  with  him  to  the  Gillespie  house, 
but  as  this  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  I  resolutely 
turned  towards  my  apartments,  which  were  in  quite 
a  different  direction. 

How  was  it,  then,  that  by  the  time  the  lights  began 
to  be  lit  in  the  streets  I  found  myself  circulating  rest 
lessly  in  the  vicinity  of  the  very  house  I  had  deter 
mined  to  avoid?  Had  the  exciting  incidents  of  the 
day  been  too  much  for  me?  It  certainly  looked  so. 
Surely  I  had  not  wandered  hither  through  any  act 
of  my  own  volition  or  for  any  definite  purpose  I  could 
name.  Yet  now  that  I  had  been  so  led;  now  that 
I  was  within  sight  of  the  house  where  so  important 
an  interview  was  going  on,  I  surely  might  be  par 
doned  for  taking  advantage  of  this  proximity  to  note 
the  doctor  when  he  came  out  and  see,  if  possible, 
from  his  manner  and  bearing  the  result  of  a  visit 
upon  which  such  serious  issues  hung. 

It  had  threatened  storm  all  day,  and  during  the 
last  few  minutes  the  atmosphere  had  become  per 
meated  with  a  drizzle  which  made  further  tramping 


258  THE  MAN 

over  wet  pavements  undesirable.  I  therefore  looked 
about  for  refuge,  and  perceiving  a  building  in  pro 
cess  of  construction  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way, 
I  glided  amid  its  shadows,  happy  both  at  the  protec 
tion  it  offered  and  the  full  view  it  gave  me  of  the 
Gillespie  front  door. 

That  this  was  the  act  of  one  bent  on  espionage  I 
am  ready  to  acknowledge,  but  it  was  espionage  under 
taken  in  a  good  cause  and  for  justifiable  reasons.  At 
all  events  I  was  engaged  in  inwardly  persuading  my 
self  to  this  effect,  when  an  event  occurred  which  drew 
my  attention  from  myself  and  fixed  it  with  renewed 
interest  on  the  door  I  was  watching. 

A  boy  of  whose  proximity  I  had  had  some  previous 
intimation  suddenly  darted  out  from  the  space  be 
hind  me,  and  went  flying  across  the  street  to  the  Gil 
lespie  hoiise.  He  had  a  missive  in  his  hand,  and 
seemed  anxious  lest  he  should  be  caught  and  stopped. 

This  roused  my  curiosity,  so  that  no  detail  of  what 
followed  escaped  me.  I  noted  the  furtive  way  in 
which  he  thrust  the  letter  into  the  unwilling  hand 
of  the  old  butler,  who  answered  his  frightened  ring 
at  the  bell.  Also  the  misgiving  shake  of  the  head 
with  which  the  latter  received  it,  and  the  doubtful 
looks  they  both  cast  at  someone  back  in  the  hall. 
Who  was  this  someone,  and  what  lay  behind  old 
Hewson's  agitated  demeanour?  The  door  closed  on 
my  curiosity,  and  I  was  left  to  ponder  this  new  event. 
But  not  for  long;  scarcely  had  my  eyes  returned 
from  following  the  escaping  figure  of  the  boy,  when 
the  door  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street  unclosed 
again  and  Dr.  Bennett  came  out. 


A    SUMMONS  259 

Now,  as  I  have  taken  pains  to  say,  I  had  posted 
myself  there  in  order  to  note  how  this  gentleman 
looked  on  leaving  Leighton  Gillespie.  But  now  that 
this  opportunity  had  come,  I  not  only  failed  to  avail 
myself  of  it,  but  found  my  whole  attention  caught 
and  my  interest  fully  absorbed  by  a  glimpse  I  had 
received  of  the  latter  gentleman  standing  back  in 
the  hall  reading  the  letter  I  had  just  seen  delivered 
in  such  a  surreptitious  manner. 

His  attitude,  the  gestures  he  unconsciously  made, 
argued  sudden  and  overwhelming  emotion,  an  emo 
tion  so  sudden  and  overwhelming  that  he  could  not 
conceal  it,  though  he  evidently  would  have  been 
glad  to  do  so,  judging  from  the  haste  with  which  he 

thrust  the  letter  in  his  pocket  and  turned But 

here  the  door  closed,  as  frequently  happens  at  critical 
moments,  and  I  found  my  eyes  resting  upon  nothing 
more  exciting  than  the  figure  of  the  doctor  feeling 
his  way  with  due  care  down  the  damp  steps. 

Had  I  not  been  witness  both  to  the  peculiar  actions 
of  the  urchin  who  brought  this  letter,  and  to  the 
strange  manner  in  which  Leighton  received  it,  I  might 
not  have  considered  it  decorous  to  make  my  presence 
known  to  the  doctor  at  a  moment  and  in  a  place  so 
suggestive  of  a  watch  upon  his  movements.  But 
as  everything  affecting  Leighton  was  as  interest 
ing  to  this,  his  best  friend,  as  it  was  to  me,  I  crossed 
the  street,  and,  with  scant  apology  for  the  seeming 
intrusion,  told  the  good  doctor  what  had  just  come 
under  my  observation. 

He  seemed  surprised,  if  not  affected,  by  what  I 
had  to  say.  He  had  seen  no  letter  and  no  evidences 


26b  THE  MAN 

of  disorder  on  the  part  of  Leighton.  To  be  sure,  he 
had  left  before  any  letter  had  been  received. 

"Indeed,  you  astonish  me,"  he  declared.  "Sel 
dom  have  I  seen  my  young  friend  in  a  more  equable 
frame  of  mind.  He  talked  evenly  and  with  dis 
cretion  about  the  most  exciting  subjects;  and, 
though  I  could  wish  him  to  have  been  more  open,  he 
showed  a  self-control  hardly  to  be  expected  from 
a  man  placed  in  such  a  disturbing  situation.  The 
detective,  who  appeared  to  have  full  range  of  the 
house,  hardly  looked  our  way  once.  The  letter  which 
you  say  he  received  just  as  I  left  him  must  have  con 
tained  very  agitating  news.  I  wonder  if  we  will  ever 
know  what." 

"Were  you  able  to  settle  in  your  own  mind  the 
question  just  now  raised  between  us  at  your  office?" 
I  asked,  after  a  momentary  silence.  "It  may  not 
be  in  order  for  me  to  ask,  and  you  may  not  feel  at  all 
ready  to  answer  me.  If  so,  do  not  hesitate  to  rebuke 
my  importunity,  which  springs  entirely  from  my  ex 
cessive  interest  in  the  matter." 

"  I  will  the  more  readily  excuse  you,"  was  his  reply, 
"because  my  answer  must  dash  your  client's  hopes. 
Leighton  Gillespie  is  not  a  victim  of  double  con 
sciousness.  If  he  were,  he  would  not  remember  in 
one  state  what  passes  in  the  other.  Now,  he  does 
remember.  Though  he  gives  no  explanation  of  what 
allures  him  into  haunts  so  out  of  keeping  with  his 
usual  associations,  I  caught  the  glint  in  his  eye  when 
I  mentioned  certain  names.  Leighton  cannot  deceive 
me.  Moreover,  Mr.  Outhwaite,  I  cannot  profession 
ally  state  that  in  my  opinion  he  is  otherwise  than 


A    SUMMONS  26l 

completely  sane,  notwithstanding  the  tragic  experi 
ence  he  once  went  through.  I  say  tragic,  because 
the  surmise  you  indulged  in  concerning  him  was  true. 
He  was  the  man  who  flung  himself  upon  the  foot-rail 
of  that  plunging  engine.  He  acknowledged  it  to  me 
just  now,  and  acknowledged,  also,  that  he  knew  that 
those  cars  contained  dynamite.  A  great  and  wonder 
ful  act  for  a  man  who  had  had  no  experience  outside 
the  club- room  and  the  gymnasium." 

"I  respect  heroism  wherever  I  meet  it,"  said  I, 
slightly  lifting  my  hat. 

"And  I,"  echoed  the  doctor;  then  as  we  turned 
down  the  street;  "I  do  not  comprehend  Leigh  ton 
or  what  has  led  him  into  this  course  of  duplicity  if 
not  crime.  A  hero  at  one  period  of  his  life;  a  scamp, 
if  not  worse,  at  another!  What  are  we  to  think  of 
the  man  whose  nature  admits  such  contradictions! 
What  are  we  to  think  of  human  nature  itself!  I  de 
clare  I  am  sometimes  baffled  by  its  operations,  and 
heartily  wish  that  in  this  present  instance  I  could 
ascribe  them  to  an  unsound  mental  condition." 

I  had  no  answer  for  this  ebullition  of  feeling,  so 
walked  on  silently  till  our  ways  divided.  As  he 
turned  towards  home,  I  took  the  shortest  route  to  my 
apartments.  But  before  entering  them  I  dined  in 
the  cafe*  below,  so  that  it  was  eight  o'clock  at  least 
before  I  mounted  to  my  rooms. 

A  man  was  sitting  on  the  stairs  waiting  for  me. 
As  I  stooped  to  unlock  my  door,  he  made  known  his 
errand.  He  was  an  officer  in  plain  clothes,  and  he 
came  to  tell  me  that  I  was  wanted  at  the  earliest  pos 
sible  moment  at  the  District  Attorney's  office. 


XXVI 

FERRY    LIGHTS 

THERE  could  be  but  one  reason  for  this  message 
from  the  District  Attorney.  I  had  identified 
myself  too  closely  with  the  Gillespie  case  not  to  have 
attracted  the  notice  of  the  police.  I  was  about  to 
be  called  upon  to  explain;  and,  while  I  shrank  from 
the  task,  I  could  not  but  acknowledge  to  myself 
that  the  time  for  such  explanations  had  come;  that 
the  burden  then  weighing  upon  me  was  too  heavy  to 
be  borne  any  longer  unassisted. 

But  the  explanations  I  have  thus  alluded  to  would 
cost  me  Hope.  Never  would  she  forget  through 
whose  instrumentality  the  man  she  loved  had  been 
betrayed  to  his  doom. 

It  was  now  raining  hard,  and  the  chill  which  this 
gave  to  the  atmosphere  was  sensibly  felt  by  us  both 
as  we  stepped  out  into  the  air.  At  the  suggestion  of 
the  officer  accompanying  me,  I  had  provided  myself 
with  a  heavy  overcoat.  It  stood  me  in  good  stead 
that  night,  much  more  so  than  I  had  any  reason  for 
anticipating  when  I  donned  it. 

The  ride  down-town  was  hurried  and  without  in 
cident.  I  entered  the  District  Attorney's  office  about 
nine  o'clock,  and  found  him  in  close  conversation 
with  Mr.  Gryce.  Both  showed  relief  at  seeing  me. 

262 


FERRY  LIGHTS  263 

This  did  not  add  to  my  satisfaction,  and  when  the 
detective  rose  and  I  noticed  his  composed  aspect  and 
the  somewhat  startling  fact  that  the  wrinkle  which 
I  had  so  long  observed  between  his  brows  had  en 
tirely  disappeared,  I  experienced  a  strange  sensation 
of  dread  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  delicate 
nature  of  the  sympathy  which  bound  me  to  Hope 
Meredith.  For  the  moment  I  was  Leighton  Gillespie, 
conscious  of  guilt  and  quailing  under  the  quiet  eye 
of  this  old  detective. 

This  sensation,  odd  and  thrilling  as  it  was,  did  not 
cease  with  the  first  sight  of  this  man.  It  followed 
me  with  more  or  less  insistence  through  the  whole  of 
this  memorable  night,  occasioning  me,  I  have  no 
doubt,  a  more  poignant  anguish  and  a  more  intoler 
able  share  in  the  grief  and  suspense  of  the  woman 
most  affected  than  Leighton  Gillespie  himself  would 
have  felt  or  did  feel  when  the  whole  power  of  the  law 
was  brought  to  bear  upon  him. 

But  these  feelings,  with  all  their  sub-consciousness 
of  another's  suffering,  did  not  interfere  with  my  out 
ward  composure;  and  I  may  here  remark  in  passing 
that  I  learned  a  lesson  from  this  experience  which 
has  proved  of  great  use  to  me  in  my  profession.  How 
ever  true  it  may  be  that  sudden  shock  reveals  the 
hidden  motions  of  the  heart,  it  is  also  true  that  a  man, 
if  he  is  a  man,  may  be  the  victim  of  the  keenest 
internal  struggle  without  abating  a  jot  of  his  natural 
manner,  or  showing  by  look  or  gesture  the  wild 
contention  raging  within  him.  This  I  have  learned, 
and  I  no  longer  gauge  a  man's  internal  sensations  by 
his  outward  appearance. 


264  THE  MAN 

The  District  Attorney  was  not  slow  in  making  me 
understand  what  he  wanted  of  me. 

After  the  necessary  civilities  had  passed,  he  told 
me  bluntly  that  he  had  heard  of  my  visit  to  Mother 
Merry's  and  of  the  conversation  I  had  held  there  with 
a  young  woman  against  whom  a  warrant  of  arrest 
had  for  some  time  been  made  out.  As  by  this  inter 
view  I  had  been  rendered  competent  to  identify  her, 
would  I  be  good  enough  to  accompany  the  officers 
who  were  about  to  attempt  her  arrest  ?  A  failure  in 
seizing  the  right  girl  would  at  this  stage  of  the  affair 
be  fatal  to  the  successful  progress  of  the  important 
matter  at  present  engaging  them. 

What  could  I  say?  My  position  at  the  best  re 
quired  explanation,  and  any  hesitation  I  might  show 
towards  aiding  the  police  in  their  legitimate  task, 
might  easily  be  construed  not  only  to  my  own  dis 
advantage,  but  to  that  of  the  man  in  whose  behalf  I 
showed  resistance.  Indeed,  there  was  nothing  left 
for  me  but  acquiescence,  hard  and  uncongenial  as  I 
found  it. 

"I  am  at  your  service,"  I  returned.  "But,  first, 
I  should  like  to  explain 

"Pardon  me,"  interposed  the  District  Attorney. 
"  Explanations  will  come  later.  Mr.  Gryce  says  he  has 
no  time  to  lose,  the  woman  being  a  very  restless  one 
and  liable  at  any  moment  to  flit.  Her  name  is  Mille- 
fleurs;  or,  rather,  that  is  the  name  by  which  she  is 
known  on  the  police  books.  You  have  seen  her,  and 
have  only  to  follow  Mr.  Gryce;  he  will  explain  the  rest." 

I  bowed  my  acquiescence,  and  joined  the  old  detect 
ive  at  the  door. 


FERRY  LIGHTS  26$ 

"It  will  be  a  rough  night,"  that  venerable  official 
remarked,  with  a  keen  glance  at  my  outfit.  And 
with  just  this  hint  as  to  what  was  before  us,  he  stepped 
out  into  the  street,  where  I  hastily  followed  him. 

We  did  not  carry  umbrellas,  Mr.  Gryce  looking  upon 
them  as  a  useless  encumbrance ;  and  as  I  waited  there 
in  the  wet  while  my  companion  exchanged  some 
words  with  a  man  who  had  stepped  up  to  him,  I  mar 
velled  at  the  impassibility  of  this  old  man  and  the 
astonishing  vigour  he  showed  in  face  of  what  most 
young  and  able-bodied  men  would  consider  the  dis 
advantages  of  the  occasion.  Short  as  was  the  whis 
pered  conference,  it  seemed  to  infuse  fresh  life  into 
the  rheumatic  limbs  I  had  frequently  seen  limping 
along  in  much  more  favourable  weather,  and  it  was 
with  a  gesture  of  decided  satisfaction  he  now  led  the 
way  to  a  cab  I  had  already  seen  dimly  outlined 
through  the  mist  which  now  enveloped  everything 
in  sight. 

"We  shall  have  to  cross  the  city,"  he  announced, 
as  he  followed  me  inside.  "It  's  a  bad  night  and 
gives  promise  of  being  worse.  But  you  are  young, 
and  I — well,  I  have  been  younger,  but,  young  or  old, 
have  always  managed  so  far  to  be  in  at  the  finish." 

"  It  is  the  finish,  then? "  I  ventured,  with  that  sink 
ing  of  the  heart  Leighton  might  have  felt  had  he 
heard  his  own  doom  thus  foreshadowed. 

The  old  detective  smoothed  out  the  lap-robe  he  had 
drawn  over  his  knees. 

"There  is  reason  to  think  so,  unless  some  mistake 
or  unforeseen  misfortune  robs  us  of  success  at  the 
moment  of  expected  triumph.  Is  your  interest  a 


266  THE  MAN 

friendly  or  a  professional  one  ?  The  affair  is  one  which 
warrants  either." 

It  was  a  question  I  was  surely  entitled  to  evade. 
But  I  had  already  decided  to  be  frank  in  my  explana 
tions  to  the  District  Attorney,  and  why  not  with  the 
man  most  in  his  confidence  ? 

"  I  am  a  friend  of  Miss  Meredith,"  said  I ;  "in  other 
words,  her  lawyer.  She  is  more  than  a  friend  to  the 
Gillespies,  as  her  relationship  demands.  To  serve 
her  interests  I  have  meddled  more  in  this  matter  than 
was  perhaps  judicious.  I  was  anxious  to  prove  to 
her  that  her  cousins'  lives  would  bear  scrutiny." 

"I  see,  and  discovered  that  one  of  them,  at  least, 
would  not.  Poor  girl!  she  has  my  sympathy.  You 
are  without  doubt  a  man  we  can  rely  on,  no  matter 
into  what  complexities  our  errand  takes  us?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  have  never  undergone  any  great 
test.  I  am  willing  to  assist  you  in  the  identification 
of  this  girl;  but  I  would  rather  not  be  present  at  her 
arrest." 

We  were  crossing  Broadway.  He  looked  out,  gave 
one  rapid  glance  up  and  down  the  busy  street, — busy 
even  at  that  hour  and  in  the  wet, — and  quietly  re 
marked: 

"  Or  at  his,  I  suppose  ?  " 

The  jolting  of  the  cab  over  the  car-tracks  struck 
my  nerves  as  his  question  did  my  heart.  To  this 
day  I  never  cross  a  street  track  in  a  carriage,  but 
the  double  anguish  of  that  moment  comes  back; 
also  the  mist  of  lights  which  dazzled  down  the  long 
perspective  as  I  cast  a  glance  through  the  dripping 
windows. 


FERRY  LIGHTS  267 

"His?"  I  repeated,  as  soon  as  I  could  trust  my 
voice. 

"Yes,  Leighton  Gillespie's.  We  expect  to  take 
him  to-night  in  her  company,"  he  added. 

That  last  phrase  startled  me. 

"  You  are  going  to  take  him  in  the  presence  of  Mille- 
fleurs!  "  I  exclaimed.  "Why,  I  saw  him  an  hour  ago 
standing  in  his  own  hall  in  Fifth  Avenue." 

"No  doubt,  but  if  you  have  made  a  study  of  Mr. 
Gillespie's  habits,  you  have  learned  that  he  is  given 
to  sudden  sallies  from  his  home.  He  will  be  found, 
I  assure  you,  in  the  same  house  as  Mille-fleurs.  I  hope 
we  may  make  no  mistakes  in  locating  this  house  cor 
rectly.  I  hardly  think  we  shall.  The  men  I  have 
chosen  for  the  job  are  both  keen  and  reliable;  be 
sides,  for  a  gentleman  of  his  antecedents,  Mr.  Gilles- 
pie  shows  a  startling  indifference  to  the  result  of  his 
peculiar  escapades.  A  strange  man,  Mr.  Outhwaite." 

"Very,"  I  ejaculated  abstractedly  enough.  My 
thoughts  were  with  a  possibility  suggested  by  his 
words.  Pursuing  it,  I  said,  "The  letter  I  saw  Mr. 
Gillespie  read  was  from  her,  then?  I  noticed  that 
it  caused  him  great  agitation,  even  from  where  I  stood 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street." 

The  old  detective  smiled  instinctively  at  my  reck 
less  betrayal  of  the  part  I  had  played  in  this  scene, 
but  made  no  reference  to  the  fact  itself,  possibly 
because  he  was  as  well  acquainted  with  my  move 
ments  as  I  was  myself.  He  only  gave  utterance  to 
an  easy-toned,  "Exactly!"  which  seemed  not  only 
to  settle  this  matter,  but  some  others  then  inflaming 
my  curiosity. 


268  THE  MAN 

"We  have  been  waiting  a  long  time  for  some  such 
communication  to  pass  between  them,"  he  presently 
resumed,  with  a  benevolent  condescension,  springing, 
perhaps,  from  our  close  contact  in  that  jolting  cab. 
"Otherwise,  we  should  have  taken  him  to-day,  and 
in  his  own  house.  We  have  had  great  difficulty  in 
holding  the  reporters  back  and  even  in  keeping  our 
own  men  quiet.  It  was  desirable,  you  see,  to  take 
them  together." 

"And  could  n't  she  be  found?  Was  n't  she  at 
Mother  Merry's?" 

"  Not  lately.  No  one  answering  to  her  description 
has  shown  up  there  for  days.  She  seems  to  have  fled 
from  that  place,  alarmed,  no  doubt,  by  the  interest 
shown  in  her  by  the  young  gentleman  who  got  speech 
with  her  at  the  cost  of  a  couple  of  silver  dollars." 

I  began  to  note  the  corners  as  we  passed  them. 

"Then  we  are  not  going  to  Mother  Merry's?"  I 
observed. 

"  No,  we  are  not  going  to  Mother  Merry's." 

"Yet  we  are  not  far  from  the  docks, "  I  remarked, 
as  I  caught  transitory  glimpses  of  the  unmistakable 
green  and  red  lights  of  the  ferry-boats  shining  mistily 
on  the  left. 

"No,  our  errand  takes  us  in  the  region  of  her  old 
haunts.  I  hope  you  feel  no  concern  as  to  your  safety?" 

"Concern?" 

"  Oh,  there  's  cause  enough,  or  would  be,  if  we  were 
not  in  force.  But  our  preparations  have  been  made 
very  carefully,  and  you  can  trust  us  to  bring  you  out 
all  right." 

I    signified  my  entire    satisfaction.     The  prospect 


FERRY  LIGHTS  269 

of  physical  struggle  or  some  open  adventure  was  wel 
come  to  me.  My  inner  excitement  would  thus  find 
vent. 

"Do  not  bother  about  me,"  said  I.  "What  I 
dread  most  is  the  possibility  of  meeting  that  unhappy 
woman's  eye.  Seeing  me  with  you,  she  may  think 
I  have  betrayed  her.  And  perhaps  I  have;  but  it 
was  done  without  intention.  She  did  not  strike  me 
as  a  wicked  woman." 

"So  much  the  less  excuse  for  the  man   who   has 
made  her  his  accomplice,"  came  in  quiet  rejoinder. 
This  ended  our  conversation  for  the  time. 
We  were  now  making  our  way  up-town   through 
upper  West  Street.     As  I  came  to  what  I  knew  must 
be  Canal  Street  from  the  cars  that  went  jingling  across 
our   path,  the  difficulties  of   advance   become   more 
marked,  and  finally  the  cab  stopped. 

"  What  is  going  on  here? "  I  asked,  as  carriage  after 
carriage  rolled  into  our  course,  till  the  street  was 
blocked  and  we  found  it  impossible  to  proceed. 

"It  's  a  Cunarder  going  out.  The  tide  sets  late 
to-night." 

Here  a  coach, with  a  sweet-faced  girl,  drew  up  along 
side  us.  I  could  see  her  happy  smile,  her  air  of  busy 
interest,  as  she  bent  her  head  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  steamer  upon  which  she  was  perhaps  about  to 
take  her  first  voyage  abroad.  I  could  even  hear  her 
laugh.  The  sensation  was  poignant.  Wrapt  up 
in  the  thought  of  Hope,  whom  I  had  not  forgotten 
for  one  moment  during  this  wild  ride,  the  sight  of  joy 
which  might  never  again  be  hers  came  like  a  glimpse 
into  another  sphere,  so  far  removed  did  I  feel  from 


2/0  THE  MAN 

everything  bespeaking  the  ordinary  interests  of  life, 
much  less  its  extraordinary  pleasures  and  anticipa 
tions. 

Mr.  Gryce  in  the  meantime  was  fuming  over  the 
delay. 

"We  might  better  have  come  up Street,"  he 

said.  "Ah!  that  's  better.  We  will  arrive  at  our 
destination  now  in  less  than  ten  minutes." 

We  had  passed  the  Cunarder's  wharf,  and  were  now 
rolling  rapidly  northward,. 

Suddenly  the  cab  stopped. 

"Again?"  I  cried. 

Mr.  Gryce  replied  by  stepping  out  upon  the  side 
walk. 

"  We  alight  here,"  said  he. 

I  rapidly  followed  him. 

The  rain  dashing  in  my  face  blinded  me  for  a  mo 
ment;  then  I  perceived  that  we  were  standing  on  a 
corner  in  front  of  a  saloon,  and  that  Mr.  Gryce  was 
talking  very  earnestly  to  two  men  who  seemed  to 
have  sprung  up  from  nowhere.  When  he  had  fin 
ished  with  what  he  had  to  say  to  them,  he  turned  to 
me. 

"Sorry,  sir,  but  we  shall  have  to  walk  the  rest  of 
the  way.  There  are  alleys  to  explore,  and  a  cab 
attracts  attention." 

"It  's  all  one  to  me,"  I  muttered;  and  it  was. 

He  turned  east  and  I  followed  him.  At  the  first 
crossing,  a  man  glided  into  our  wake;  at  the  second, 
another.  Soon  there  were  three  men  sauntering 
behind  us  at  a  convenient  distance  apart.  Each  held 
a  policeman's  club  under  his  coat;  and  walked  as  if 


FERRY  LIGHTS  2JI 

the  rain  had  no  power  to  wet  him.  Suddenly  I  felt 
myself  wheeled  into  an  alley-way. 

It  was  pouring  now,  and  even  the  street  lamps 
shone  through  a  veil  of  mist,  which  made  them  all 
look  like  stars.  The  alley  was  dark,  for  there  were 
no  lamps  there;  only  at  the  remote  end  a  distant 
glimmer  shone.  It  came  from  the  murky  panes  of 
some  shop  or  saloon. 

Towards  this  light  we  moved. 


XXVII 

RAIN 

OUDDENLYthe  figure  of  a  man  stepped  out  be- 
O  fore  us.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  his  face,  but 
his  voice  had  a  familiar  sound  as  he  said: 

"It  's  all  righj;.  He  's  there.  I  saw  him  go  in  a 
half-hour  ago." 

"Very  good.  My  man,  Sweetwater,"  explained 
Mr.  Gryce,  turning  for  an  instant  towards  me;  then, 
in  hurried  tones  to  the  other,  "  Do  you  know  on  which 
floor  he  is  to  be  found;  and  whether  the  man  at  the 
bar  suspects  what  's  up?" 

"If  he  does,  he  's  pretty  quiet  about  it.  All  looks 
natural  inside.  But  you  can't  tell  what  whispers 
have  gone  about.  As  for  him,  he  's  chosen  his  place 
with  his  usual  indifference  to  consequences.  He  's 
in  one  of  the  attic  rooms,  sir,  well  back,  and  can  be 
reached  from  the  outside  by  means  of  a  shed  that 
slopes  up  almost  to  the  window-ledge.  If  he  wanted 
to  escape,  he  could  easily  do  so  by  a  drop  of  only  four 
feet.  But  I  have  left  a  man  on  watch  there  and  our 
young  gentleman  would  fall  into  arms  that  would  n't 
let  him  go  in  a  hurry.  Will  you  come  around  that 
way?  There  's  a  light  in  the  window  and  there  's 
neither  curtain  nor  shade  to  hinder  a  man's  looking 
in.  If  you  wish,  I  can  crawl  up  on  the  roof  I  spoke 

272 


RAIN  273 

of  and  take  a  peep  at  our  doves  before  we  venture 
upon  disturbing  them." 

"It  can  do  no  harm,"  rejoined  the  older  detective; 
"and  if  the  girl  is  where  she  can  be  seen,  this  gentle 
man  can  go  up  afterwards  and  identify  her.  It  will 
mean  surer  and  quieter  work  than  approaching  them 
by  the  stairway.  The  house  is  full,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Chuck."  And  with  this  characteristic  word 
Sweetwater  melted  from  before  us  as  if  he  had  been 
caught  up  in  one  of  the  swirls  of  wind  and  rain  that 
ever  and  anon  swept  through  the  alley,  dashing  our 
faces  with  wet  and  making  our  feet  unsteady  on  the 
slippery  pavement. 

I  began  to  feel  strange  and  unlike  myself.  The 
night,  the  storm,  the  uncongenial  place,  our  more 
than  uncongenial  errand,  were  having  their  effect, 
lending  to  that  dark  entrance  into  one  of  the  worst 
corners  of  our  great  city  a  sense  of  mysterious  awe 
which  has  caused  it  to  remain  in  my  memory  as 
something  quite  out  of  the  ordinary  experiences  of 
life.  It  was  not  a  long  alley,  and  we  soon  reached 
the  light  I  have  mentioned.  We  could  hear  voices 
now,  loud  voices  raised  one  moment  in  contention, 
the  next  in  drunken  cheer;  and,  thrilling  through  it  all, 
a  woman's  tones  singing  some  bewildering  melody. 
It  was  not  the  voice  of  Mille-fleurs.  I  could  never 
have  mistaken  that — but  it  was  a  young  voice,  and 
did  not  lack  sweetness  in  the  low  notes.  As  I  was 
listening  to  it,  something  flew  flapping  into  my  face. 
It  was  a  piece  of  damp  paper  peeled  from  some  bill 
board  by  a  wandering  gust  and  sent  scurrying  through 
the  air.  I  tore  it  away  from  my  eyes,  drawing  a 

18 


274  THE  MAN 

deep  breath  like  a  person  suddenly  released  from 
suffocation;  but  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  effect 
of  that  cold  slap  in  the  face  at  the  moment  when 
my  every  nerve  was  on  tension.  Mr.  Gryce,  who 
had  seen  nothing, — it  was  hardly  possible  to  see 
in  the  deluge  which  now  swept  down  upon  us, — 
gave  me  a  pull  which  drew  me  from  before  the 
swinging  door  I  was  unconsciously  making  for,  into 
a  corner  where  I  found  myself  more  or  less  shielded 
from  the  wind  if  not  from  the  rain.  The  alley  had 
an  L,  and  leading  down  from  this  L  was  a  narrow 
passage,  within  which  we  now  stood,  surrounded 
by  reeking  walls  and  facing  (whenever  the  fury  of 
the  storm  abated  sufficiently  for  us  to  look  up)  an 
opening  into  what  might  be  called  a  labyrinth  of 
back-yards.  As  I  was  bracing  myself  to  meet  all 
alarms,  real  or  imaginary,  associated  with  this 
noisome  place,  I  beheld  a  sudden  figure  emerge 
from  the  opening  and  hastily  approach  us.  It  was 
Sweetwater  again.  He  had  just  descended  from 
his  clamber  over  the  roofs,  where  he  seemed  to  be 
as  much  at  home  as  a  cat. 

"Lucky  that  it  rains  so,"  he  panted;  "keeps  the 
kids  in.  Otherwise  some  of  us  would  have  been 
spotted  long  ago.  There  are  about  fifty  of  them 
in  this  one  house."  Then  I  heard  him  whisper  in 
the  ear  that  was  necessarily  very  near  mine : 

"  It  's  all  right  up  there.  I  can  see  his  figure 
plainly.  He  's  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  window, 
but  there  's  no  mistaking  Leighton  Gillespie.  He  's 
in  dinner  dress,  just  as  he  came  from  his  own  table 
in  Fifth  Avenue.  The  girl " 


RAIN  275 

"Well,  what  of  the  girl?" 

"Is  in  one  of  her  heavy  sleeps.  I  could  not  see 
her  face,  only  her  hair,  which  hung  all  about  her " 

"  I  would  know  her  hair,"  I  put  in. 

The  two  men  drew  a  step  aside  and  whispered 
together.  Then  Mr.  Gryce  came  back,  and,  putting 
his  mouth  to  my  ear,  asked  if  I  had  enough  agility 
to  mount  the  shed  as  Sweetwater  had  done.  "  He 
says  the  wood  is  slippery,  but  the  climb  up  quite 
practicable  for  an  agile  man.  He  had  no  difficulty, 
and  if  you  will  catch  hold  of  the  window-casings  as 
you  go  along " 

"  Let  me  see  the  place,"  said  I. 

Sweetwater  at  once  drew  me  down  the  passage 
into  the  open  place  in  the  rear.  Here  wind  and 
storm  had  their  will  again,  and  for  a  moment  I  could 
neither  hear  nor  see  anything  but  a  vast  expanse  of 
hollow  darkness,  lit  here  and  there  with  misty  lights, 
and  reverberating  with  all  sorts  of  sounds,  among 
which  the  shrieking  wind  wailed  longest  and  most 
furiously. 

"Up  there!"  called  a  voice  in  my  ear,  and  then 
I  became  aware  of  an  arm  pointing  over  my  shoulder 
towards  a  dark  incline  running  up  over  a  flight  of 
stairs,  upon  the  lower  step  of  which  I  had  almost 
stumbled.  "That's  your  road.  Can  you  take  it?" 

Jamming  my  hat  over  my  head,  I  looked  up.  A 
lighted  square  met  my  eyes  in  the  blank  side  of 
the  wall,  against  which  this  none  too  desirable  road, 
as  he  called  it,  ran  up. 

"The  window  is  wide  open,"  said  I. 

"As  you  see,"  said  he. 


2/6  THE  MAN 

"  I  shall  make  a  noise;  he  will  hear  me " 

"He  did  n't  hear  me " 

"That  's  no  proof  he  won't  hear  me.  But  I  for 
get  the  gale,  and  that  sound — what  is  it? " 

"Tin  cans  rattling;  loose  in  some  gutter,  I  sup 
pose " 

"It  is  infernal."  Then  with  sudden  resolution — 
a  resolution  I  hardly  understand,  for  I  certainly  did 
not  feel  called  upon  to  risk  either  self-respect  or 
safety  in  this  cause — I  cried  out:  "I  '11  try  for  it; 
though  it  's  long  since  I  put  my  agility  to  the  proof. 
But  how  am  I  to  get  onto  the  roof? " 

For  reply,  Sweet  water  uttered  a  low  but  peculiar 
call,  and  a  shadow  near  by  became  a  man. 

"Lend  your  back  to  this  gentleman,"  said  he; 
and  as  I  took  advantage  of  the  assistance  thus 
afforded  me  and  worked  my  way  up  onto  the  ledge 
over  his  head,  he  softly  added: 

"Catch  hold  of  everything  that  offers,  and  be 
careful  your  feet  don't  slip.  When  you  're  up,  give 
one  look  and  come  down.  We  will  be  on  hand  to 
catch  you  when  you  get  to  the  edge  of  the  roof." 

The  rain  was  dripping  from  my  hat  to  such  an 
extent  that  it  nearly  blinded  me.  I  tore  it  off  and 
flung  it  at  their  feet;  then  I  started  on  my  perilous 
climb. 

It  was  a  difficult  one,  but  not  so  difficult  as  I  had 
expected;  and  in  two  minutes  I  was  under  that 
open  window.  A  tangle  of  ropes  struck  my  head — 
clothes-lines,  I  suppose.  Laying  hold  of  them,  I 
steadied  myself  before  looking  in.  As  I  did  so,  a 
consciousness  of  my  position  made  the  moment  a 


"IN  TWO  MINUTES  I  WAS  UNDER  THAT  OPEN  WINDOW" 


RAIN  277 

bewildering  one.  I  thought  of  Hope  and  what  her 
surprise  would  be  could  she  see  me  in  my  present 
situation  on  the  peak  of  this  sloping  roof,  thirty 
feet  above  the  ground.  Hope!  the  word  brought 
resolution  also.  I  would  look  in  upon  this  man 
with  eyes  schooled  to  their  duty,  but  unsharpened 
by  hate.  If  there  was  forbearance  due  him,  I  would 
try  and  exercise  that  forbearance,  remembering 
always  that  he  was  an  object  of  affection  to  the 
woman  I  loved. 

Was  this  why  I,  for  the  first  time,  saw  him  as  he 
may  have  looked  to  her  and  probably  did?  He  was 
seated  in  such  a  way  that  only  his  profile  was  visible 
beyond  the  casing  around  which  I  peered.  But 
that  profile  struck  me  forcibly,  and,  forgetting  my 
errand,  I  allowed  myself  a  moment's  study  of  the 
face  I  had  never  rightly  seen  till  then. 

I  was  astonished  at  the  result;  astonished  at  the 
effect  it  had  upon  me.  Leighton  Gillespie  seen  with 
his  brothers  was  not  the  Leighton  Gillespie  I  looked 
upon  now.  Beheld  thus  by  himself  he  was  an  im 
pressive  figure.  Lacking  George's  height  and  Al 
fred's  regularity  of  feature  he  was  apt  to  be  regarded 
by  superficial  or  prejudiced  observers  as  the  one 
plain  man  in  an  exceptionally  handsome  family. 
But  I  saw  now  that  this  was  not  so.  He  had  at 
tractions  of  his  own  which  could  bear  comparison 
with  those  of  most  other  men;  and,  relieved  from 
too  close  comparison  with  these  two  conspicuous 
personalities,  the  traits  of  his  dark,  melancholy  coun 
tenance  came  out,  and  in  the  regard  of  his  sad  and 
preoccupied  eye  was  felt  a  charm  which  might  have 


2/8  THE  MAN 

ripened  into  fascination  had  no  dark  secret  beclouded 
their  depths  or  interfered  with  the  natural  expres 
sion  of  feelings  that  must  once  have  been  both 
natural  and  spontaneous.  Had  he  been  more  for 
tunate  in  his  tastes  or  more  able  to  put  restraint 
upon  his  passions,  he  might,  with  that  eye  and  smile, 
have  been  one  of  those  men  whose  influence  baffles 
the  insight  of  the  psychologist,  and  from  whose  mag 
netic  personality  spring  innumerable  benefits  to 
those  of  his  day  and  generation. 

All  this  was  forcibly  impressed  upon  me  as  I 
knelt  in  the  pouring  rain,  looking  in  upon  his  face 
at  this  momentous  crisis  of  his  life,  and,  had  I  known 
it,  of  my  own  also. 

I  had  feared  to  advance  my  head  too  far  lest  he 
should  be  attracted  by  the  movement  and  so  de 
tect  my  presence  at  the  window.  Consequently  I 
had  seen  as  yet  nothing  of  Mille-fleurs,  and  but 
little  of  the  room.  This  would  not  do,  and  I  was 
just  preparing  to  extend  my  view  further  when  the 
face  I  was  watching  sank  forward  out  of  sight  and  a 
groan  came  to  my  ears  so  thrilling  and  heartbroken 
that  my  own  heart  stopped  beating  in  my  bewilder 
ment  and  surprise.  From  whose  lips  had  this  ex 
pression  of  anguish  sprung?  From  hers?  It  had 
not  sounded  like  a  woman 's  voice.  Could  it  be 

Again!  What  could  it  —  did  it,  mean?  Had 
Leighton  Gillespie  received  some  warning  of  the 
fate  which  at  this  moment  hung  over  him,  and  was 
it  his  voice  I  heard  lifted  in  these  heartbroken 
accents?  I  was  willing  to  risk  everything  to  see. 
Thrusting  my  head  forward,  I  looked  boldly  into 


RAIN  279 

the  room,  and  momentary  as  the  glance  was,  or 
seemed  to  be,  I  have  never  forgotten  the  dolorous 
and  awe-compelling  picture  upon  which  it  fell. 

By  the  light  of  a  guttering  candle,  whose  blowing 
flame  threatened  every  minute  to  go  out,  I  saw  a 
wretched  pallet  drawn  up  against  a  dirty  and  moul 
dering  wall.  On  this  pallet  lay  a  woman,  with  just 
a  ragged  counterpane  covering  limbs  I  had  so  lately 
seen  moving  in  rhythmical  measure.  Her  hair — 
those  bewildering  curls,  the  like  of  which  I  had  never 
before  seen  and  would  never  see  again,  lay  about 
her  wherever  those  faded  rags  failed  to  reach.  It 
hid  her  arms,  it  framed  her  temples,  and,  flowing 
away,  coiled  in  great  masses  over  the  side  of  that 
pallet  and  onto  the  floor  it  seemed  to  richen  with  its 
wealth.  But  it  did  not  hide  her  face.  Either  she 
had  moved  or  her  locks  had  been  drawn  aside  since 
Swcetwater  crouched  in  my  place,  for  now  her  feat 
ures  were  plainly  visible  and  in  those  features  I 
had  no  difficulty  in  recognising — Mille-fleurs. 

Beside  her,  and  drawn  up  so  close  that  the  rich 
broadcloth  of  his  sleeve  brushed  the  foul  bed  and 
lost  itself  among  those  overflowing  curls,  sat  Leigh- 
ton  Gillespie,  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  weeping 
as  a  man  weeps  but  once  in  a  lifetime. 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  grief.  Real  heart 
agony  cannot  be  simulated;  and,  touched  with  awe 
for  what  I  could  not  understand,  I  was  about  to  slip 
away  from  my  post,  when  he  gave  an  impetuous 
start,  roused  himself,  and  glanced  in  sudden  anger 
towards  a  door  set  in  the  wall  directly  opposite  me. 
Another  instant  he  was  on  his  feet,  with  his  hands 


280  THE  MAN 

held  out  across  the  prostrate  figure  before  him,  in 
an  attitude  of  jealous  love  such  as  I  have  never  seen 
equalled.  What  had  he  seen  or  heard?  The  door 
was  closed,  yet  he  seemed  to  fear  intrusion.  Whose  ? 
Not  mine,  for  his  eyes  did  not  turn  towards  the  win 
dow,  but  remained  fixed  upon  this  door.  Had  the 
sound  of  steps  reached  him  from  the  hall?  Prob 
ably,  for,  as  I  watched  the  door  with  him,  I  beheld 
the  knob  turn,  then  the  door  itself  open,  slowly  at 
first,  then  more  quickly,  till  it  suddenly  fell  back, 
disclosing  the  quiet  form  and  composed  counte 
nance  of  the  old  detective  I  had  left  behind  me  in  the 
dark  corner  of  the  passage  at  the  side  of  the  house. 

At  the  same  instant  a  voice  whispered  from  over 
my  shoulder  into  my  ear: 

"Lie  still;  or  slip  silently  down  to  the  officers 
stationed  below.  You  were  so  long  that  Mr.  Gryce 
became  impatient." 

Up  till  then  I  had  supposed  that  only  a  moment 
had  elapsed  since  I  first  looked  in. 

"I  will  stay,"  I  whispered  back.  I  saw  that 
Leighton  was  about  to  speak. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  heard  him  demand  of  the  in 
truder,  in  a  passion  so  great  he  failed  to  note  the 
identity  of  the  man  he  thus  accosted.  "I  have  a 
right  to  this  room.  I  have „ paid  for  it — Ah!"  He 
had  just  recognised  the  detective. 

With  a  quick  turn  he  drew  the  coverlet  over  the 
face  he  seemed  to  guard  so  jealously,  then  with  an 
air  of  command,  which  was  at  once  solemn  and  per 
emptory,  he  pointed  to  the  hat  which  naturally 
rested  on  Mr.  Gryce's  head,  and  said: 


RAIN  28l 

"Respect  for  the  dead!  You  will  uncover,  Mr. 
Gryce." 

"The  dead?"  repeated  the  astonished  detective, 
striding  hurriedly  into  the  room.  "The  dead?  Is 
this  girl  dead?" 

But  his  doubt,  if  doubt  it  were,  disappeared  before 
the  look  with  which  Leighton  Gillespie  regarded 
him. 

"Dead!"  that  gentleman  declared.  Then  as  Mr. 
Gryce  instinctively  bared  his  head,  this  strange, 
this  incomprehensible  man  advanced  a  step,  and  in 
tones  inconceivably  touching  and  dignified,  added 
this  short  sentence: 

"To  respect  her  is  to  respect  me;  this  woman  is 
my  wife. 


XXVIII 

BY    THE    LIGHT    OF    A    GUTTERING    CANDLE 

MY  amazement  was  unaffected,  and  so  over 
whelming  I  hardly  understood  myself.  His 
wife,  Mille-fleurs !  Alas,  then,  for  Hope,  who,  in 
her  unthinking  if  generous  love  for  this  man,  was 
prepared  for  any  other  grief  than  this!  Yet  why 
' '  alas  "  ?  Had  she  not  told  me  that  her  greatest  wish, 
her  supreme  desire,  was  to  see  his  character  restored 
to  its  old  standing  in  her  eyes,  and  had  he  not  at 
this  moment  cleared  himself  of  the  one  sin  her 
womanly  heart  would  find  it  hardest  to  pardon? 
The  cry  of  "poor  Hope!  "  with  which  my  heart  was 
charged  changed  to  "happy  Hope,"  and  my  compos 
ure,  which  had  been  sadly  shaken,  was  slowly  return 
ing,  when  the  insoluable  mystery  of  the  situation 
absorbed  me  again,  and  I  glanced  at  Mr.  Gryce  to 
see  how  he  had  been  affected  by  Mr.  Gillespie's  an 
nouncement. 

This  aged  detective,  who,  when  I  last  looked  his 
way,  was  standing  alone  in  the  doorway,  now  had 
Sweetwater  at  his  side, — that  agile  young  man  having 
bounded  into  the  room  before  the  words  which  had 
made  so  great  a  change  in  the  situation  had  fully 
left  Mr.  Gillespie's  lips;  and  the  contrast  of  expres 
sion  as  seen  in  the  two  faces  was  noticeable.  Sweet- 

282 


BY    THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     283 

water,  young  in  experience,  young  in  feeling,  re 
flected  in  look  and  attitude  the  sensations  of  awaken 
ing  sympathy  and  interest  with  which  I  own  my  own 
breast  was  full,  while  the  older  detective,  with  char 
acteristic  prudence,  withheld  his  judgment,  and,  con 
sequently,  his  sympathy,  for  the  explanations  which 
such  an  avowal  from  such  a  man  certainly  demanded. 

Indeed,  the  situation  might  very  naturally  sug 
gest  to  one  so  accustomed  to  the  seamy  side  of 
human  nature,  that  this  sudden  demise  of  an  incon 
venient  witness  chimed  in  too  opportunely  with  the 
need  of  the  man  he  had  come  there  to  arrest,  for  it 
to  be  viewed  without  suspicion. 

There  was,  however,  only  a  tinge  of  this  feeling 
in  his  voice  as  he  quietly  remarked: 

"I  thought  you  buried  your  wife  five  years  ago 
in  Cornwall." 

''And  I  thought  so  also,"  was  Leighton  Gillespie's 
quiet  reply.  "For  many,  many  wretched  weeks 
and  months  I  believed  this  in  common  with  all  my 
friends.  Then — but  it  is  a  long  story,  Mr.  Gryce. 
Do  you  require  me  to  relate  it  now  and  here  ?" 

The  reverence  with  which  he  allowed  his  hand  to 
touch  rather  than  fall  on  the  breast  he  had  so  care 
fully  covered  from  our  curious  gaze  spoke  volumes. 
At  the  sight  of  this  simple  action,  both  men  bent 
their  heads.  I  doubt  if  he  noticed  it.  A  stray  lock 
which  had  escaped  from  the  coverlet  and  now  hung 
curling  and  glittering  over  the  straw  which  pro 
truded  from  the  wretched  pallet,  had  attracted  his 
eye.  Lifting  it  with  a  lingering  touch,  he  put  it 
softly  out  of  sight ;  then  he  quietly  said : 


284  THE  MAN 

"I  would  like  to  have  one  fact  made  known  to 
the  public.  My  father  was  ignorant  to  the  last  that 
it  was  a  stranger  and  not  my  wife  we  buried  in  Corn 
wall.  There  were  reasons  which  made  it  difficult 
for  me  to  tell  him  that  Mrs.  Gillespie  still  lived; 
and  while  I  make  no  excuses  for  the  silence  I  main 
tained  towards  him  on  this  subject,  I  acknowledge 
that  to  it  are  due  my  present  position  and  the  misery 
I  am  now  under  of  seeing  the  darling  of  my  heart 
die  in  an  attic  where  I  would  not  house  a  dog." 

The  accents  of  heartfelt  sorrow  are  not  to  be  mis 
taken.  The  air  of  severity  with  which  Mr.  Gryce 
had  hitherto  surveyed  this  supposed  criminal  soft 
ened  into  a  look  more  in  keeping  with  his  native 
benevolence,  but  he  had  no  reply  ready,  and  the 
silence  became  painful.  Indeed,  the  situation  was 
not  an  easy  one  for  even  so  experienced  a  man  as 
Mr.  Gryce  to  handle,  and,  noting  his  embarrassment, 
I  bounded  into  the  room  and  took  my  place  at  his 
side,  much  as  Sweetwater  had  done. 

Mr.  Gillespie  scarcely  remarked  this  new  inroad 
upon  his  privacy.  He  doubtless  took  me  for  another 
police-officer,  and  as  such  not  to  be  noted  or  counted. 
But  the  detectives  showed  some  surprise  at  my  in 
trusion,  which  seeing,  I  turned  to  Mr.  Gryce  and 
said: 

"If  you  will  excuse  my  presumption  I  should  like 
to  speak  to  Mr.  Gillespie." 

The  latter  started,  possibly  at  my  tone,  and,  wheel 
ing  about,  gazed  at  my  bare  head  and  drenched 
figure  with  sharp  curiosity  in  which  a  growing 
recognition  soon  became  visible. 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING  CANDLE     285 

I  at  once  bowed. 

"You  remember  me,"  I  suggested.  "I  am  Mr. 
Outhwaite.  If  you  will  pardon  my  method  of  en 
trance  and  the  proof  which  it  gives  of  my  connection 
with  these  men,  I  should  like  to  offer  you  my  assist 
ance  at  this  crisis.  Mr.  Gryce  evidently  wishes 
some  conversation  with  you,  which  you  rightly  hesi 
tate  to  accord  him  in  a  place  made  sacred  by  the 
presence  of  your  dead  wife.  If  you  will  have  con 
fidence  in  me,  I  will  watch  this  room  while  you  go 
below.  No  one  shall  approach  the  bed  and  no  one 
shall  enter  the  room,  if  Mr.  Gryce  will  leave  a  guard 
at  the  door.  Will  you  accept  this  service  ?  It  is 
sincerely  tendered." 

He  stood  perplexed,  eyeing  me  with  mingled 
doubt  and  astonishment;  then,  turning  with  an 
inexpressible  look  of  longing  towards  the  one  object 
of  his  care,  he  cried: 

''  You  do  not  understand  or  you  would  not  ask 
me  to  leave  her,  not  for  a  moment.  I  have  not  had 
her  so  near  me,  so  near  my  hand,  so  near  my  heart, 
these  many  minutes  in  years.  She  cannot  rise  and 
run  away  from  me  now.  She  does  not  even  wish 
to.  This  is  a  happiness  to  me  you  cannot  appre 
ciate,  a  happiness  I  cannot  endure  seeing  cut  short. 
Leave  me,  then,  I  pray,  and  come  again  when  she 
has  been  laid  in  her  grave.  You  will  find  me  ready 
to  receive  you,  ready  to  explain " 

"You  ask  the  impossible,"  interrupted  Mr.  Gryce. 
"Some  explanations  will  not  bide  the  convenience 
of  even  so  recent  a  mourner  as  yourself.  If  you  do 
not  wish  to  be  taken  immediately  from  this  place, 


286  THE   MAN 

you  will  make  some  few  things  clear  to  us.  What 
has  this  woman  had  to  do  with  your  father's  death?" 

"Nothing." 

The  fire  with  which  Leighton  Gillespie  uttered  this 
word  made  us  both  start.  Aghast  at  what  struck 
me  as  a  direct  falsehood,  I  instinctively  opened  my 
lips.  But  Mr.  Gryce  made  me  an  imperceptible  ges 
ture,  and  I  refrained  from  carrying  out  my  incon 
siderate  impulse. 

"I  see,"  continued  the  unhappy  man,  "that  sus 
picions  which  I  had  supposed  confined  to  my  brothers 
and  myself  have  involved  my  innocent  wife.  This  is 
more  than  I  can  bear.  I  will  at  once  make  known  to 
you  my  miserable  story." 

Mr.  Gryce  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down.  As 
there  was  no  other  in  the  room  we  knew  what  that 
meant.  The  damp  air  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  the 
rheumatic  old  man.  Attention  being  thus  called  to 
the  open  window,  Sweetwater  moved  over  and  closed 
it.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  look  which  Leighton 
Gillespie  cast  towards  the  bed  as  that  broken  and 
ill-fitting  sash  came  rattling  down. 

"See  if  the  hall  is  clear,"  said  Mr.  Gryce. 

The  young  detective  crossed  to  the  door.  As  he 
opened  it  and  looked  out,  a  gust  of  noisy  laughter 
rose  from  below,  mingled  with  the  shrill  sound  of  a 
woman's  singing,  the  same,  doubtless,  which  we  had 
previously  heard  in  front.  These  tones,  heard  amid 
brawl  and  shouting,  seemed  to  pierce  Mr.  Gillespie  to 
the  heart.  Mr.  Gryce,  who  saw  everything,  motioned 
to  Sweetwater  to  close  the  door  as  he  had  the  window. 
Sweetwater  complied  by  shutting  himself  out.  This 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     287 

was  an  act  of  self-denial  which  I  felt  called  upon  to 
emulate. 

"Shall  I  join  Mr.  Sweetwater?"  I  asked. 

It  was  Mr.  Gillespie  who  replied : 

"No.  I  wish  more  than  one  listener;  let  the 
lawyer  stay." 

I  was  only  too  happy  to  remain.  Wet  as  I  was, 
I  felt  anxious  to  hear  what  this  man  so  singled  out 
by  Hope  had  to  say  in  explanation  of  his  relations  to 
the  wretched  woman  he  now  acknowledged  to  be  his 
wife. 

He  seemed  in  haste  to  make  them. 

"Seven  years  ago  this  fall,"  he  began,  "I  met  this 
woman,  then  a  girl." 

"Wait!"  put  in  Mr.  Gryce;  "there  is  a  point  which 
must  first  be  settled."  And,  advancing  to  the  cot 
guarded  so  jealously  by  the  man  before  him,  he  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  coverlet.  "  You  will  allow  me,"  he 
said  firmly,  as  with  a  gentle  enough  touch  he  drew 
it  softly  aside. 

"  How  came  this  woman — pardon  me,  how  came 
Mrs.  Gillespie  to  die  thus  suddenly?" 

The  unhappy  husband,  after  his  first  recoil  of  out 
raged  feeling,  forced  himself  into  a  recognition  of  the 
detective's  rights,  and,  with  apparent  resignation, 
rejoined : 

"  I  should  have  come  to  that  in  time.  She  died,  as 
you  can  readily  perceive,  from  exposure.  Driven 
from  Mother  Merry's  miserable  quarters  by  some  ter 
ror  for  which,  perhaps,  she  had  no  name,  she  wandered 
in  and  out  among  the  docks  for  two  wretched  days 
and  nights,  often  dragging  her  feet  through  the  ooze 


288  THE  MAN 

of  the  river,  so  that  her  garments  were  never  dry  and 
are  not  so  yet.  At  last  she  came  here,  where  once 
before  she  had  found  shelter  in  a  biting  storm.  Here! 
But  it  is  a  better  place  than  the  wharves,  and  I  am 
glad  God  guided  her  to  even  so  poor  a  refuge.  She 
was  raving  with  fever  when  she  came  straggling  into 
the  room  below.  But  after  the  warmth  struck  her 
and  she  had  tasted  something,  she  came  to  herself 
again,  and  then — and  then  she  sent  for  me." 

He  paused.  I  did  not  yet  understand  him  or  the  cir 
cumstances  which  made  this  situation  possible,  but  a 
strange  reverence  began  to  mingle  with  my  wonder, — 
not  for  the  man — I  could  not  feel  that  yet;  but  for 
a  love  which  could  infuse  such  feeling  into  the  lightest 
allusion  he  made  to  this  beloved,  if  wretched 
waif. 

"  There  was  a  doctor  here  when  I  came,"  he  speedily 
continued.  "You  can  find  him; — he  will  tell  no  dif 
ferent  tale  from  mine — but  no  doctor  could  help  her 
after  those  nights  of  bitter  cold  and  exposure,  and  I 
paid  him  to  leave  me  alone  with  her;  and  she  died  in 
my  arms.  May  I  tell  you  why  this  was  everything 
to  me?  Why,  the  happiness  of  having  received  her 
last  sigh  is  so  great,  that  I  have  no  room  for  resent 
ment  against  you  for  this  intrusion,  and  hardly  feel 
the  shame  of  being  found  in  this  place,  with  my  dead 
darling  lying  in  her  miserable  rags  on  this  hideous 
pallet!" 

"You  may  tell  us,"  assented  Mr.  Gryce,  replacing 
the  coverlet  over  the  face  upon  which  was  fast  settling 
that  look  of  peace  which  is  Death's  last  gift  to  the 
living. 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTEKING  CANDLE     289 

Mr.  Gillespie's  tone  grew  deeper;  it  could  hardly 
have  grown  more  tender  or  more  solemn. 

"  I  loved  this  woman.  She  was  young  when  I  first 
saw  her.  So  was  I.  There  were  no  haggard  lines 
about  her  dancing  eyes  and  laughing  lips  then.  She 
was  a  vision  of  —  well,  I  will  not  say  beauty;  she 
was  never  beautiful — but  of — I  cannot  tell  you  what; 
I  can  only  say  that  my  life  began  on  that  day,  not  to 
end  till  she  died,  a  half-hour  ago. 

"I  married  her.  She  was  not  a  woman  to  take 
into  my  father's  house ;  perhaps  not  into  any  family 
circle.  The  stage  was  her  home,  the  stage  from  which 
I  took  her;  but  I  did  not  know  this;  I  simply  knew 
that  she  was  wild  in  spirit,  and  unused  to  household 
ways  and  social  restrictions.  But  had  I  understood 
her  then  as  I  do  now,  I  doubt  if  I  would  have  acted 
any  differently.  I  was  headstrong  in  those  days  and 
quite  reckless  enough  to  grasp  at  what  I  felt  to  be 
my  own,  even  if  aware  it  would  fall  to  nothing  in  my 
frenzied  clutch. 

"  I  took  her  into  my  father's  family.  I  took  this 
wild  bird  out  of  its  native  air,  and  shut  it  up  behind 
the  strict  bars  of  a  conventional  household.  One 
promise  only  I  exacted  from  her  as  the  price  of  this 
gracious  act  on  my  part.  She  was  never  under  any 
pretext,  not  even  in  the  event  of  my  death,  to  return 
to  the  stage.  Poor  child !  she  has  kept  that  promise. 
Perhaps  it  is  all  she  has  kept  :  kept  it,  though 
hungry ;  kept  it  when  the  wild  craving  for  morphine 
tore  at  her  breast  and  brain  and  she  could  have  got 
the  drug  for  one  strain  from  her  marvellous  voice; 

kept  it,  though  her  veins  burned  with  longing  for 
19 


2QO  THE  MAN 

the  movement  that  was  her  life,  and  the  weights  on 
her  tongue  lay  heavy  on  her  heart,  which  beat  truly 
only  while  she  was  dancing  or  singing.  It  was  her  danc 
ing  and  singing  which  had  won  my  heart ;  or,  rather, 
the  woman  when  dancing  and  singing;  yet  I  cut  her 
off  from  these  natural  expressions  of  the  turbulent 
joy  springing  from  her  exuberant  nature,  and  ex 
pected  her  to  be  satisfied  with  my  love  and  the  routine 
of  a  well-regulated  household.  This  was  my  folly;  a 
folly  born  of  the  delight  I  took  in  her  simple  presence. 
I  thought  that  she  loved  me  as  I  did  her,  and  found 
in  love's  madness  the  recompense  for  what  she  had 
laid  aside.  But  I  had  not  read  her  nature.  No  man 
could  fill  her  heart  as  she  filled  mine.  She  was  a  genius, 
—  an  untamable  one, —  and  the  restiveness  of  her 
temperament  made  demands  which  could  only  find 
relief  in  spontaneous  song  or  rhythmic  movement. 

"My  father,  who  loved  quiet  women — women  like 
my  mother,  whose  force  lay  hidden  in  such  sweetness 
that  she  shines  with  almost  a  saint's  glory  in  our 
memory — could  not  understand  my  wife's  tempera 
ment  ;  and,  consequently,  could  not  show  even 
common  patience  towards  her.  He  was  not  harsh 
in  his  treatment  of  her,  but  he  failed  to  give  her 
credit  for  so  much  as  wishing  to  conform  to  his  ways 
and  the  habits  of  the  people  she  must  meet  in  our 
house.  When  he  came  upon  her,  stealthily  posing 
before  our  long  mirror  in  the  drawing-room,  or  caught 
floating  down  the  stairs  a  faint  echo  of  her  magical 
voice  in  one  of  the  tragic  strains  she  best  loved  to 
sing,  he  showed  such  open  shrinking  and  distaste  that 
she  flew  for  comfort  to  the  one  resource  capable  of 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     2QI 

undermining  for  me  all  hope  of  a  better  future.  I 
allude  to  her  use  of  morphine. ' 

"  She  had  taken  it  before  our  marriage,  but  the  fact 
was  kept  from  me.  When  I  awoke  to  a  realisation 
of  the  horror  menacing  my  happiness,  I  devoted  time, 
strength,  and  every  means  I  then  knew,  to  win  her 
from  this  practice.  But  I  only  partially  succeeded. 
She  did  not  realise  the  harmfulness  of  this  habit  and 
could  not  be  made  to.  Eluding  my  vigilance,  she 
resorted  more  and  more  to  the  drug  I  could  never 
succeed  in  keeping  out  of  her  grasp,  and  it  fell  to  me 
to  stand  in  the  breach  thus  made  and  keep  the  know 
ledge  of  this  crowning  humiliation  from  my  father 
and  brothers. 

"Meanwhile  my  father,  who  was  strictness  itself 
in  all  matters  of  propriety,  insisted  upon  her  sitting 
opposite  him  at  the  table  and  comporting  herself  in 
every  way  as  the  lady  of  the  house.  Just  because  he 
so  dreaded  comment  and  had  so  much  pride  in  his 
own  social  standing  and  that  of  his  sons,  he  kept  her 
continually  on  view  and  carried  her  to  parties  and 
balls,  thinking  that  his  prestige  would  cause  recogni 
tion  to  be  given  her  by  his  friends.  And  it  did — but 
grudgingly !  Admired  for  what  she  was  not,  she  was 
scorned  for  what  she  was.  I  have  seen  her  petted  by 
some  would-be  society  fine  lady  till  my  blood  boiled, 
then  marked  the  smile  of  supercilious  sarcasm  which 
would  be  thrown  back  upon  her  when  her  beautiful 
shoulders  were  turned.  Yet  I  had  hopes,  strong 
hopes  of  better  days  after  the  first  strangeness  of  the 
new  life  should  have  worn  away  and  her  good  im 
pulses  had  had  time  to  develop  into  motive  powers  for 


THE  MAN 

kind  actions.  But  it  was  not  to  be ;  never  was  to  be. 
The  fiend  whose  power  I  had  set  myself  to  combat 
was  far  stronger  than  any  force  I  could  bring  against 
him.  She  grew  worse — appeared  once  in  public  as 
she  never  before  had  appeared  outside  her  own  room, 
and  my  father,  who  was  with  her,  never  attempted 
to  hold  up  his  head  again  in  his  former  unmoved 
fashion.  Claire,  who  came  to  us  later,  had  no  power 
to  hold  her  mother  back,  and  while  she  was  still  an 
infant,  the  inevitable  occurred — my  wife  ran  away 
from  us. 

"  It  was  the  first  overwhelming  shock  my  hitherto 
unfailing  faith  had  had  to  sustain.  She  had  slipped 
away  at  nightfall  without  money  and  almost  without 
farewell.  The  merest  note  left  on  the  piano  in  our 
little  room  on  the  third  floor  told  me  she  had  tried 
to  be  happy  in  a  domestic  life,  but  had  failed;  and 
begged  me  not  to  seek  her,  for  she  was  stifling  for  air 
and  freedom. 

"And  I  have  no  doubt  she  was.  Seeing,  since, 
where  she  has  found  pleasure,  and  under  what  con 
ditions  the  old  gay  smile  has  revisited  her  lips,  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  very  luxury  we  prized  was  oppress 
ive  to  her.  But  then  I  only  thought  of  the  dangers 
and  privations  she  must  encounter  away  from  my 
protection;  and,  confiding  to  no  one  the  calamity 
which  had  befallen  me,  I  rushed  from  the  house  and 
sought  her  in  every  place  which  suggested  itself  to 
me  as  a  possible  refuge.  It  was  a  frenzied  search,  and 
ended  in  my  coming  upon  her,  ten  days  after  her 
disappearance,  in  a  plain  but  decent  lodging-house. 
Her  money  was  gone,  and  she  lay  in  that  heavy  sleep 


BY    THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     293 

which  has  no  such  hallowing  effect  upon  the  beauty 
as  this  we  look  upon  now. 

"Some  men's  love  would  have  sickened  and  failed 
them  at  this  degrading  sight.  But  though  a  change 
took  place  in  the  feeling  which  had  held  me  in  an 
entranced  state  ever  since  my  marriage,  it  was  a 
change  which  deepened,  rather  than  deadened,  the 
affection  with  which  I  regarded  her.  From  a  creature 
whose  untold  charm  bewitched  and  bewildered  me, 
she  became  to  me  a  sacred  charge  for  which  I  was 
responsible  to  God  and  man;  and  while  she  still  lay 
there  and  I  stood  in  a  maze  of  misery  before  her,  I 
vowed  that,  come  what  would,  I  would  remain  true 
to  her  and  by  means  of  this  faith  and  through  the 
unfailing  patience  it  would  call  forth,  make  what  effort 
I  could  to  stay  her  on  the  brink  of  that  precipice  she 
seemed  doomed  to  perish  by. 

"  But  I  was  to  be  tried  in  ways  I  had  little  foreseen. 
She  was  glad  to  see  me  when  she  woke,  and  readily 
consented  to  return  to  her  home  and  her  child.  But 
in  two  months  she  was  off  again,  and  this  time  I  did 
not  find  her  so  easily.  When  I  did,  she  was  in  such 
a  hopeless  condition  of  mental  and  moral  degradation 
that  I  took  her  to  a  sanitarium,  where  I  had  every 
reason  to  expect  that  a  proper  secrecy  would  be  main 
tained  as  to  her  real  complaint  and  unhappy  con 
dition.  For  my  pride  was  still  a  torment  to  me,  and 
an  open  rupture  with  my  father  too  undesirable  for 
me  to  risk  a  revelation  of  the  true  extent  of  the  vaga 
ries  indulged  in  by  his  unwelcome  daughter-in-law. 
Her  escapades,  serious  as  they  were,  had  affected  him 
but  little.  For  I  had  so  closely  followed  her  in  her 


294  THE  MAN 

sudden  flittings  that  we  were  looked  upon  as  having 
left  home  together  on  some  hurried  tour  or  at  the 
call  of  some  thoughtless  impulse.  He  had  believed 
us  out  of  town,  while  I  was  engaged  in  hunting  the 
city  through  for  her. 

"  But  after  a  week  spent  in  the  sanitarium,  I  per 
ceived  by  the  looks  I  encountered,  on  every  side,  that 
my  secret  was  discovered ;  and  was  thus  in  a  measure 
prepared  when  the  door  of  my  room  opened  one  day 
upon  the  stern  figure  of  my  father.  He  had  heard  the 
true  cause  of  my  wife's  condition,  and  a  stormy  scene 
was  before  me. 

"  It  was  then  that  I  regretted  that  my  early  oppor 
tunities  had  been  slighted,  and  that,  instead  of  being 
independent  of  his  bounty,  I  was  not  considered 
capable  of  earning  my  own  living.  Had  my  home 
been  one  of  my  own  making,  I  might  have  stood  up 
and  faced  him  at  that  hour  with  a  resolution  to  hold 
by  my  wife,  which  in  itself  might  have  ensured  his 
respect.  But  I  was  tied  hand  and  tongue  by  the 
realisation  of  all  I  owed  him,  was  owing  him,  and 
was  likely  to  owe  him  to  the  end  of  my  days.  I  was 
not  master  of  my  own  life ;  how,  then,  could  I  propose 
to  be  the  master  of  another's? 

"  My  father,  whose  favourite  I  had  never  been,  could 
not  be  expected  to  know  what  was  passing  in  my 
heart;  but  he  was  not  without  a  realisation  of  what 
he  might  find  in  the  adjoining  room,  and,  casting  a 
glance  that  way,  he  asked  coldly: 

"'Is  she — Mrs.  Gillespie — (he  never  called  her  by 
her  given  name)  awake?' 

"No  question  could  have  pierced  my  heart  more 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     295 

poignantly.  It  was  not  the  hour  for  sleep,  and  the 
use  of  the  word  had  intention  in  it.  But  I  subdued  all 
signs  of  distress,  and,  calling  her  by  name,  bade  her 
come  out  and  greet  father;  after  which  I  stood  breath 
less,  waiting  for  her  appearance,  conscious  that  it 
might  be  a  smiling  one,  and  equally  that  it  might  be — 
I  dared  not  think  what.  She  was  not  always  to  be 
depended  upon. 

"She  did  not  appear  at  once.  '  Sit  down,  father,' 
I  begged.  'She  may  be  dressing.' 

"And  she  was.  In  a  minute  or  two,  as  we  stood 
watching,  she  threw  open  the  door,  and  in  an  instant 
I  saw  that  whatever  hope  I  may  have  cherished  of 
her  creating  a  good  impression  in  her  partially  re 
covered  state,  was  an  ill-founded  one.  She  was  not 
in  one  of  her  depressed  moods,  but,  what  was  worse, 
perhaps,  in  one  of  her  ecstatic  ones.  All  her  genius, 
and  she  had  much,  had  taken  fire  under  some  impulse 
of  her  erratic  brain,  and  she  came  into  the  room  pre 
pared  to  conquer  in  the  only  way  she  knew  how. 
Still  young,  still  beautiful  in  her  own  way,  which  was 
that  of  no  other  woman,  she  glided  into  our  presence 
in  one  rapturous  whirl,  a  scarf  floating  from  her  neck, 
and  a  wreath  of  wild  vine  about  her  head.  I  rushed 
to  prevent  her,  but  it  was  too  late.  She  would  dance, 
and  she  did,  while  my  father,  who  had  never  seen  her 
in  this  glowing  state,  drew  me  aside  and  watched  with 
hard  eyes,  while  she  swayed  and  dipped  and  palpitated 
in  what  would  have  been  a  glorious  ebullition  of  pure 
delight,  had  she  not  been  my  wife,  and  the  man  at  my 
side  as  cold  to  her  charm  as  the  dew  which  stood  out 
on  my  wretched  forehead.  When  I  could  bear  no 


296  THE  MAN 

more,  I  flung  my  arms  about  her  and  she  stopped, 
panting  and  frightened,  like  a  bird  caught  in  full 
flight.  '  Sing,'  I  whispered  to  her;  '  sing  that  air  from 
(Enone'.  I  thought  the  tragic  pathos  of  her  tones 
might  make  her  dancing  forgotten.  And  they  did  in 
a  way.  My  father  had  never  listened  to  any  such 
dramatic  rendering  of  a  simple  song  before,  and  I  saw 
that  he  was  subdued  by  the  feelings  it  awakened. 
But  I  gathered  no  hope  from  this.  He  had  too  little 
liking  for  public  exhibitions  of  this  kind  on  the  part 
of  women,  for  him  to  be  affected  long  by  any  singing 
which  was  not  that  of  the  boudoir;  and  when,  her 
first  ebullition  passed,  she  began  to  droop  under  the 
heavy  reaction  which  inevitably  followed  these  im 
pulsive  performances,  I  drew  her  into  the  other  room, 
and  shut  the  door.  Then  I  came  back  and  faced 
him. 

"He  was  standing  in  the  window  of  the  large  but 
unlovely  room,  drumming  restlessly  on  the  panes  be 
fore  him.  As  the  light  struck  his  head  it  brought  to 
view  the  silver  rapidly  making  its  way  through  the 
dark  locks  he  had  been  accustomed  to  pride  himself 
upon,  and  a  pang  struck  me  at  this  sight,  which 
made  me  quite  dumb  for  the  instant.  I  felt  as  if  I, 
and  not  she,  had  been  dancing  over  his  heart.  Then 
my  ever-present  thought  of  the  woman  I  had  sworn 
to  cherish  returned  and  held  me  steady  while  he 
said: 

4 "  It  is  well  that  I  have  seen  your  wife  once  when 
the  full  spell  was  upon  her.  Now  I  know  what  has 
come  into  the  Gillespie  family.  Leighton,  do  you  love 
this  woman?' 


SHE  GLIDED  INTO  OUR  PRESENCE  IN  ONE  RAPTUROUS  WHIRL" 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     297 

" '  Enough  to  bear  your  condemnation  if  you  choose 
to  condemn  us, '  I  assured  him. 

'"Then  take  her  away  out  of  my  sight  and  from 
the  possible  sight  of  my  growing  grandchild.  A 
dancing  menad  can  be  no  mother  to  Claire.' 

"I  will  take  her  away,'  I  promised  him.  'When 
this  place  has  done  all  for  her  it  can,  I  will  carry  her 
where  she  can  offend  no  one  but  strangers.' 

"'I  would  suggest  an  asylum,'  he  muttered.  It 
was  the  only  unjust  thing  I  ever  knew  him  to  propose. 

"She  is  not  insane,'  I  objected. 

'"She  is  not  sane,'  he  rejoined.  'No  opium-eater 
is.  But  I  will  not  force  your  conscience;  only — let 
me  never  again  see  her  in  our  home  in  Fifth  Ave 
nue.  You  will  always  be  welcome.' 

"I  could  not  retort  that  I  would  enter  no  house 
from  which  she  was  thus  peremptorily  excluded.  The 
house  in  Fifth  Avenue  was  my  home,  the  home  of 
my  child ;  and  about  it  clustered  every  dear  association 
of  my  heart  save  those  connected  with  my  unhappy 
love. 

"A  man  who  marries  for  a  whim  must  expect  un 
pleasant  results,'  my  father  resumed.  '  You  shall  have 
what  money  you  need  for  her  establishment  elsewhere ; 
but  this  hemisphere  is  too  narrow  to  harbour  both  her 
and  myself.  Go  to  Europe,  Leighton;  there  is  more 
room  there  for  your  wife  to  dance  in.' 

"And  I  meant  to  follow  this  suggestion,  but  her 
health  was  not  good  enough  for  me  to  risk  a  voyage 
at  this  juncture,  and  we  drifted  West  and  put  up  at 
a  place  called  Mountain  Springs.  It  was  during  our 
stay  there,  that,  so  far  as  the  world  is  concerned, 


298  THE  MAN 

the  story  of  my  married  life  ended.  But  forme  it  had 
only  begun.  The  facts  regarding  my  wife  and  her 
connection  with  that  great  catastrophe  which  robbed 
more  than  one  household  of  wife  and  mother  differed 
much  in  reality  from  those  reported  to  the  world  and 
accepted  by  my  own  family.  She  did  not  perish  in 
that  wreck,  though  I  thought  she  had,  and  mourned 
her  loss  for  many  months.  She  had  merely  taken 
advantage  of  the  circumstances  to  effect  another 
escape.  How,  I  will  endeavour  to  relate,  hard  as  it  is 
to  disclose  the  failings  of  one  so  dear  to  me. 

"My  wife,  whose  natural  longings  had  been  modi 
fied  rather  than  extinguished  by  her  experiences  at 
the  sanitarium,  soon  awakened  to  the  old  sense  of 
restraint  and  a  desire  to  enjoy  again  the  irrespon 
sibilities  of  her  early  Bohemian  life.  But  having 
gained  wisdom  by  her  past  experiences,  she  allowed 
no  expression  of  her  feelings  to  escape  her;  and,  re 
lying  on  the  effect  produced  upon  me  by  her  apparent 
content,  merely  asked  the  privilege  of  enjoying  the 
sports  indulged  in  by  the  other  boarders.  Fearing 
to  cross  her  too  much,  I  gave  her  all  possible  liberty, 
but  when  she  begged  to  go  on  a  certain  excursion — 
the  excursion  which  ended  so  disastrously  for  all 
concerned — I  felt  forced  to  refuse  her,  for  I  had 
made  an  arrangement  that  day  which  would  prevent 
me  from  accompanying  her.  However,  after  re 
peated' solicitation,  I  yielded  to  her  importunities 
and  gave  her  my  consent,  at  which  she  showed  much 
joy,  and  lavished  many  expressions  of  fondness  upon 
me.  Had  my  suspicions  not  been  lulled  by  the 
undisturbed  peacefulness  of  the  last  few  months, 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     299 

these  open  demonstrations  of  affection  might  have 
occasioned  me  some  alarm,  for  they  were  not  with 
out  a  suggestion  of  remorse.  But  I  mistrusted 
nothing;  I  was  too  happy,  and  when  I  parted  from 
her  it  was  with  the  full  intention  of  sacrificing  for 
her  pleasure  the  first  real  business  engagement  I 
had  ever  entered  upon.  But  I  did  not  carry  out 
this  impulse;  I  merely  made  arrangements  for  the 
train  to  stop  for  me  at  the  little  station  on  the  moun 
tains  where  my  affairs  led  me.  But  I  did  not  confide 
this  plan  to  her  till  I  was  upon  the  point  of  leav 
ing.  Then  I  told  her  she  might  look  for  me  on  the 
train  immediately  after  passing  Buckley,  and  while 
I  wondered  at  the  way  she  received  my  words,  I 
thought  the  embarrassment  she  showed  was  due  to 
surprise.  Alas!  it  sprang  from  much  deeper  sources. 
She  had  planned  to  leave  me  again,  this  time  for 
ever;  and,  baffled  as  she  thought  in  the  attempt, 
she  succumbed  for  a  little  while  to  despair.  Then 
her  fertile  brain  suggested  an  expedient.  Two 
trains  left  Mountain  Springs  that  morning,  one 
north  and  one  south.  She  would  take  the  southern 
train,  and  lest  she  should  be  prematurely  discovered 
in  her  flight  and  so  be  followed  before  she  had  found 
a  refuge,  she  prevailed  upon  a  girl  over  whom  she  had 
some  influence,  to  exchange  garments  with  her  and 
take  her  place  among  the  excursionists.  She  little 
dreamed  what  lay  before  those  excursionists.  As 
little  did  I  realise  that  it  was  in  behalf  of  a  stranger 
I  entered  upon  that  mad  chase  after  the  runaway 
cars  I  had  seen  slip  from  the  engine  and  go  crashing 
down  towards  the  train  on  which  I  believed  my  wife 


300  THE  MAN 

to  be.  I  knew  those  cars  to  be  loaded  with  dyna 
mite,  for  it  was  in  connection  with  this  fact  I  had 
come  to  this  place,  and  the  thought  that  they  were 
destined  to  prove  the  destruction  of  the  life  I  so 
much  prized  maddened  me  to  such  an  extent  that 
it  was  a  mere  matter  of  instinct  for  me  to  leap  upon 
the  engine  I  saw  bounding  to  her  rescue.  Had  time 
been  given  me  to  think,  I  might  not  have  shown 
such  temerity,  for  I  knew  nothing  of  a  fireman's  duties 
or  what  would  be  expected  of  me  by  the  engineer. 
But  I  did  not  pause  to  think;  I  only  stood  ready 
to  hazard  my  life  for  the  woman  I  loved, — the  woman 
whom  I  believed  to  be  on  the  train  I  even  then  could 
see  advancing  up  the  valley.  Of  that  ride,  its  swirl 
and  whirlwind  rush,  I  remember  little ;  every  thought, 
every  fear,  was  engrossed  in  the  one  question,  How 
were  we  to  save  that  train?  But  two  methods 
suggested  themselves  to  me  in  my  ignorance  and 
isolation  from  the  brave  engineer.  Either  we  must 
overtake  the  cars  and  by  coupling  to  them  stay  their 
downward  rush  to  the  main  track  below — a  trick  I 
did  not  understand — or  we  must  crush  so  fiercely  into 
them  as  to  explode  the  dynamite  with  which  they 
were  loaded  before  they  had  a  chance  to  collide  with 
the  advancing  train.  That  the  latter  catastrophe 
did  not  happen  was  not  owing  to  any  precaution  on 
my  part,  for  I  do  not  remember  that  I  had  the  least 
dread  of  personal  destruction.  As  I  have  just  said, 
my  one  thought,  my  only  thought  in  that  dizzy 
descent,  was  to  save  her.  And  I  failed  to  do  it;  or 
so  I  had  reason  to  think.  As  you  remember,  all  our 
efforts  were  in  vain;  the  unspeakable  occurred,  and 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     30! 

wreck,  death,  and  disaster  met  my  eyes  when,  after 
a  period  of  blank  darkness,  I  rose  from  the  ground 
where  I  had  been  hurled  by  the  force  of  that  dyna 
mite  explosion.  Amid  this  wreck,  in  face  of  this 
death,  I  plunged  in  my  search  for  her,  and,  as  I  be 
lieved,  found  her.  A  loving  husband  cannot  be 
deceived  in  his  wife's  clothes,  and  the  fragments  I 
handled  told  their  tale,  as  I  thought,  only  too  well. 
But,  as  you  now  know,  it  was  not  my  wife  who  wore 
these  clothes,  though  we  buried  her  as  such,  and  I 
mourned  my  lost  love  as  no  one  who  has  not  fixed 
his  whole  heart  upon  one  object  can  possibly  under 
stand. 

"  My  father,  whose  relief  at  this  release  can  be 
readily  imagined,  endeavoured  to  calm  my  grief, 
not  by  sympathy,  for  that  he  could  not  feel,  but  by 
an  unvarying  kindness  which  assured  me  that,  now 
that  this  obstacle  to  a  right  understanding  between 
us  had  been  removed,  I  might  hope  for  the  establish 
ment  of  more  cordial  relations  between  us.  I  was 
older  now,  and  he  more  considerate  of  my  many 
uncongenial  ways  and  habits;  besides,  Claire  made 
a  tender  bond  between  us,  and  with  one  of  her  baby 
smiles  healed  many  a  breach  that  might  otherwise 
have  separated  us. 

"I  began  to  be  content,  when,  having  some  busi 
ness  in  a  strange  quarter  of  the  city,  I  chanced  to 
walk  down  East  Fourteenth  Street.  It  was  a  holi 
day  of  some  kind  and  there  had  been  a  procession. 
The  stir  in  the  streets  was  just  what  usually  follows 
the  breaking  up  of  long  lines  of  people.  But  this 
did  not  disturb  me.  Claire  had  been  unusually 


302  THE  MAN 

engaging  that  morning,  and  I  was  just  rejoicing  in  the 
memory  of  her  innocent  prattle,  when  the  band  in 
the  far  distance  broke  out  into  a  merry  strain,  and 
I  saw  on  the  sidewalk  before  me  a  cluster  of  people 
separate  into  a  sort  of  ring,  in  the  middle  of  which 
a  woman  stood  poised  with  swaying  arms,  so  like 
the  image  that  was  day  by  day  receding  farther  and 
farther  into  the  deep  recesses  of  my  memory,  that 
a  species  of  faintness  came  over  me  and  I  drew  back, 
sick  and  half-blinded,  directly  in  the  path  of  the 
people  pressing  in  my  rear.  This  caused  me  to  re 
ceive  a  push  from  behind  which  effectually  roused 
me  and  gave  me  strength  to  look  again  at  one  who 
could  recall  my  lost  Mille-fleurs.  I  expected — how 
could  I  expect  anything  else  ? — to  be  met  by  a  strange 
face  and  an  unknown  smile.  But  it  was  her  face, 
her  smile;  and  the  figure,  clad  in  such  clothes  as  I 
had  never,  even  in  my  worst  dreams,  associated 
with  the  woman  to  whom  I  had  given  my  name, 
was  hers.  Had  God  made  two  such  women?  Two 
with  such  eyes,  such  hair,  such  instincts,  and  such 
genius?  Was  this  a  sister  of  Mille-fleurs;  a  twin  of 
my  lost  darling,  of  whose  existence  I  had  never  heard? 
God  grant  not  !  I  had  buried  Mille-fleurs,  and  with 
her,  memories  which  this  creature  would  only  bring 
back  to  the  destruction  of  my  peace.  I  dared  not 
give  way  for  one  instant  to  the  thought  that  this 
likeness  was  anything  but  a  passing  illusion  which 
the  next  moment  would  dispel.  I  dared  not  for  my 
life.  And  yet  I  stood  staring;  hearing  and  not  hear 
ing  the  shouts  of  wild  applause  rising  around  me, 
and  was  looking,  yes,  looking  directly  into  her  eyes, 


BY    THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     303 

when  they  suddenly  turned  my  way  in  startled  re 
cognition.  It  was  Mille-fleurs !  Mille-fleurs!  The 
woman  I  had  buried  was  a  stranger,  and  she  who 
was  making  pastime  for  the  passing  crowd  was  my 
wife  ! 

"I  made  no  scene.  I  accepted  the  fact  as  we 
accept  any  unforeseen  catastrophe  that  comes  upon 
us  unawares,  tearing  up  our  peaceful  present  and 
making  a  chaos  of  the  future.  As  she  was  still  danc 
ing,  though  fitfully  and  with  curious  breaks,  I  stopped 
her  by  my  steady  look  and  held  her  so,  till  the  crowd 
had  melted  away  sufficiently  for  me  to  take  her  by 
the  hand  and  lead  her  under  the  cover  of  the  first 
small  shop  we  came  to.  Then  I  questioned  her 
closely,  and,  when  I  understood  all,  asked  her  if 
she  would  go  with  me  and  be  clothed  and  fed.  She 
answered  with  a  startled  look.  'I  cannot!'  she 
cried,  and  wearily  drooped  her  head.  '  I  am  not 
worthy.' 

"God  knows  what  passed  through  my  mind  then. 
I  stood  there  in  the  wretchedness  of  this  low  shop, 
beside  a  counter  from  which  the  smell  of  stale  to 
bacco  rose  in  nauseous  fumes,  together  with  the 
sickening  smell  of  partially  decayed  fruits — a  flower 
in  my  button-hole  (put  there  by  little  Claire),  and 
before  me  this  woman,  loved  as  few  of  earth's  best 
and  worthiest  have  been,  telling  me  with  trembling 
lips  what  explained  her  rags,  the  degradation  which 
had  fallen  on  her  beauty,  and  the  whole  pitiable 
downfall  of  a  womanhood  which  once  struck  my 
heart  as  ideal  and  worthy  of  a  man's  unselfish  worship. 

"  Drawing    the    flower    from    my    button-hole,    I 


304  THE   MAN 

crushed  it  in  my  hand.  If  I  could  have  donned  the 
clothes  of  some  of  the  men  lolling  about  us  in  greedy 
curiosity,  I  would  have  done  so  at  that  moment,  if 
only  the  contrast  between  our  outer  selves  might 
have  been  less  apparent.  But  this  was  impossible, 
and  I  could  only  stand  in  silence  in  face  of  this  wreck 
of  bygone  delights,  and  in  one  moment  and  under 
the  gaze  of  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes  peering  from  behind 
the  counter  and  gaping  in  at  the  doorway,  live  down 
my  bitter  humiliation  at  this  untoward  resurrection, 
of  a  love  I  had  learned  to  rejoice  in  as  buried.  For 
this  was  no  wretched  waif  of  the  streets  I  could  pity 
and  leave.  This  was  my  wife,  the  mother  of  my 
child;  the  woman  whom  I  had  once  vowed  to  hold 
in  honour  to  the  end,  and  to  succour,  no  matter 
what  her  need  or  to  what  degradation  she  might 
come.  Besides,  there  was  an  appeal  in  her  droop 
ing  attitude  and  quivering  mouth  which  touched 
my  heart  in  spite  of  my  judgment.  I  felt  her  misery 
as  I  had  never  felt  my  own;  a  misery  all  the  more 
pronounced  because  of  the  joy  so  openly  preceding 
it;  and,  feeling  a  fresh  thrill  in  the  old  cord  of  union 
that  had  made  our  hearts  one,  I  quietly  asked  her 
if  she  had  lost  all  love  for  me.  She  gave  me  one 
quick  look;  and  I  saw  her  eye  quicken  as  she  softly 
faltered,  'No.  Only,'  she  made  haste  to  add,  'I 
cannot  live  in  big  houses  under  the  eyes  of  people 
who  think  my  ways  odd  and  wrong.  If  you  take 
me  back  to  him  I  cannot  help  going  wrong  again. 
But  I  would  like  something  pretty  to  wear  and  some 
thing  good  to  eat.' 

"  I  took  her  to  an  East  Side  hotel.     I  bought  her 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING  CANDLE     305 

clothes  and  gave  her  food,  over  which  she  laughed 
like  a  child.  Then  I  told  her  what  I  meant  to  do 
for  her.  I  would  buy  her  a  home  in  a  pretty  coun 
try  place,  where  she  need  not  fear  intruding  eyes. 
There  she  should  live  with  some  woman  I  could 
trust  and  who  would  be  kind  to  her.  A  piano, 
music,  flowers,  books — she  should  have  all,  and  if, 
in  the  course  of  time,  she  came  to  wish  it,  I  would 
bring  our  child  to  see  her.  Did  she  think  she  could 
be  contented  in  a  home  like  this?  Would  n't  it  be 
better  than  the  cold  and  squalor  of  the  streets  and 
these  wild  dances  before  unsympathetic  eyes? 

"She  answered  with  a  burst  of  affection  which 
was  real  enough  at  the  time;  then  asked  if  I  was 
going  to  let  my  father  know  she  was  living.  This 
brought  to  light  the  spectre  which  had  stood  over 
against  us  ever  since  I  first  recognised  her  as  the 
woman  I  had  sworn  to  love  and  cherish.  Could  I 
tell  my  father?  Could  I  bring  down  again  upon 
myself  the  old  coldness,  the  old  distrust,  the  old 
sense  of  a  division  that  was  gall  to  me  because  of 
the  reverence  and  love  I  naturally  felt  for  him? 

"I  could  not;  I  recognised  the  cowardice  of  it, 
but  I  could  not.  I  was  ready  to  give  her  succour; 
I  was  ready  to  devote  time,  money,  and  care  to  her 
establishment  and  well-being;  I  could  deny  myself 
the  pleasures  and  pursuits  natural  to  men  of  my  age, 
and  even  the  uninterrupted  enjoyment  of  the  home 
I  had  come  to  prize,  but  I  could  not  tell  my  father 
that  the  wild-eyed  creature  he  was  forcing  himself 
to  forget,  still  lived,  and  might  any  day  bring  down 
fresh  humiliation  upon  him. 


306  THE   MAN 

"She  saw  my  doubt  and  smiled  as  in  the  early 
days  of  her  untrammelled  youth. 

"'Better  so,'  she  cried;  'then  if  I  fail  to  be  good 
it  will  not  so  much  matter.  And  I  may  fail;  it  is 
in  my  blood,  Leighton;  in  my  unfortunate  Bohemian 
blood.  Oh,  why  did  you  ever  care  for  me?' 

"  Such  gusts  of  feeling  and  regret  over  the  havoc 
she  had  caused  were  common  to  her.  They  made 
it  impossible  for  me  to  hope  in  her  ultimate  restora 
tion  to  respectability  and  a  quiet  life.  But,  alas! 
they  were  but  gusts,  and  after  a  few  months  of  peace 
ful  harbourage  in  the  rose-covered  cottage  I  found 
for  her,  she  fled  from  me  again  and  was  lost  for  years. 
But  I  never  ceased  searching  for  her.  The  unrest 
of  knowing  she  was  restless  under  the  roof  I  had 
provided  for  her  was  nothing  to  the  restlessness  of 
not  knowing  where  she  was  and  in  what  misery  and 
under  what  deprivation  she  was  pining  away  in  the 
dark  holes  where  alone  she  could  find  refuge.  I 
have  sat  hours  under  my  father's  eye,  talking  of 
stocks  and  bonds  and  railway  shares,  while  my  every 
thought  and  feeling  were  with  her  whom  in  my  fancy 
I  saw  wandering  from  river  to  river,  in  dark  nights 
and  in  cold; — rain  on  the  pavements  or  slush  in  the 
streets, — drawing  up  to  lighted  doors  for  warmth 
or  hiding  her  brown  head  with  its  flying  curls  under 
sheds  a  dog  might  be  glad  to  fly  from. 

"  It  has  happened  to  me  often  to  be  in  the  presence 
of  women,  at  church  or  concert  or  festival,  and  with 
their  eyes  on  my  face  and  the  perfume  of  their  pres 
ence  floating  about  me,  to  behold  in  my  mind's 
perspective  a  solitary  figure  poised  on  the  edge  of 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     307 

some  dock,  in  whose  lifted  arms  and  upstrained  coun 
tenance  I  read  despair,  the  despair  that  leads  to 
death;  and,  forgetting  where  I  was  and  to  whom  my 
words  were  due,  have  rushed  out  to  do — what? 
Wander  those  down-town  streets  and  the  bleak 
places  I  had  seen  in  my  fancy,  in  the  hope  of  coming 
once  again  upon  the  being  who,  unaccountably  to 
myself,  still  held  the  cord  whose  other  end  was  bound 
indissolubly  to  my  heart.  What  wonder  that  I 
was  looked  upon  as  eccentric,  moody,  strange,  or 
that  my  father,  who  naturally  explained  these  freaks 
according  to  his  own  lights,  showed  displeasure  at 
my  unaccountable  whims  ?  Yet  I  went  on  with  my 
search,  and  finally  the  day  arrived  when  my  perse 
verance  was  rewarded  and  I  came  upon  her  once 
again. 

"She  was  in  a  low  dance-hall,  but  she  was  not 
dancing.  She  was  simply  gazing  at  another  woman 
attempting  those  dizzy  whirls  which,  under  the  sway 
of  her  own  genius,  had  once  attracted  the  applause 
of  a  different  crowd  from  this.  There  was  infinite 
longing  in  her  eyes,  mixed  with  the  sadness  which 
will  sometimes  creep  over  those  who  are  homeless 
through  their  own  choice.  When  she  saw  me,  and 
this  was  perhaps  sooner  than  was  best  for  either  her 
self  or  me,  I  saw  the  old  look  of  terror  rise  in  her 
eyes,  but  mingled  with  it  was  a  certain  recognition  of 
my  faithfulness  and  self-forgetful  care  for  her  which 
melted  the  ice  about  my  heart  and  reawakened  the 
old  hope  for  her.  But  she  did  not  follow  me  when 
I  beckoned  her  out;  nor  could  I  induce  her  to  do 
so  without  risking  a  scene  which  would  necessarily 


308  THE  MAN 

attract  all  eyes  to  us.  But  she  promised,  if  I  gave  her 
money,  to  return  the  next  day  to  the  little  house  in 
New  Jersey. 

"And  she  did;  but  her  stay  was  short,  and  it 
became  a  common  thing  for  her  to  drift  back  there 
for  a  day  or  so,  and  then  to  flee  away  again,  to  return 
when  the  fancy  seized  her  or  the  devils  of  discom 
fort  drove  her  to  seek  a  respite  from  the  horrors 
which  had  now  become  for  her  synonymous  with 
freedom. 

"She  always  found  something  to  reward  her  for 
these  visits;  some  surprise  in  the  shape  of  a  new 
article  or  some  fresh  source  of  amusement.  Money 
to  me  was  only  valuable  as  it  gave  me  power  to  rivet 
another  link  to  the  chain  with  which  I  endeavoured 
to  hold  her  to  a  better  life;  and  though  I  knew  the 
false  construction  which  might  be  put  upon  these 
expenditures,  not  only  by  my  father  but  others,  I 
spared  no  means,  stopped  at  no  extravagance  which 
might  add  one  more  allurement  to  the  nest  I  had 
made  for  my  weary  and  bedraggled  one. 

"The  woman  who  had  orders  to  keep  this  house 
in  a  continual  state  of  readiness  for  its  fitful  visitant 
was  as  discreet  as  she  was  sympathetic.  She  may 
have  surmised  my  secret,  or  she  may  have  supposed 
all  these  efforts  the  result  of  an  ill-conceived  phil 
anthropy. 

"I  could  never  tell  by  her  manner.  But  I  knew 
she  treated  my  poor  one  well.  Time  after  time  has 
she  opened  the  door  to  a  disordered  and  dishevelled 
creature,  whom  next  morning  I  found  sitting  in  a 
bower  of  roses,  fitted  out  in  dainty  cashmeres,  and 


BY   THE  LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     309 

with  her  long  locks  combed  till  they  shone  and  shone 
again.  Nay,  I  have  come  upon  her  on  her  knees 
before  the  bruised  and  frozen  feet  upon  which  she 
was  thrusting  slippers  of  downy  softness,  which 
made  my  darling  laugh  until  their  very  softness 
became  a  burden,  and  she  threw  them  off  to  dance. 
I  have  never  lingered  over  these  sights,  but  I  have 
imagined  them  over  and  over  with  tear-filled  eyes, 
for,  explain  it  as  you  will,  every  backward  slip  made 
by  my  darling  toward  the  precipice  I  ever  saw  yawn 
ing  for  her  strengthened  the  hold  she  had  upon  my 
heart,  till  the  pity  with  which  I  regarded  her  filled 
my  whole  bosom  to  bursting. 

"  But  the  wild  hawk  cannot  be  tamed.  She  would 
vanish  from  our  care  just  when  we  thought  it  was 
becoming  dear  to  her,  and  my  wild  pursuit  would 
begin  again,  to  be  followed  by  chance  findings  and 
renewed  disappointments.  She  was  not  to  be  held, 
though  in  the  hope  of  doing  so  I  have  spent  many 
stolen  hours  in  the  little  house,  reading  to  her,  talk 
ing  to  her,  playing  with  her,  sacrificing  my  good 
name  and  the  regard  of  my  relatives  just  to  win 
back  one  innocent  look  to  her  face  and  keep  her 
amused  and  contented  without  the  help  of  the  ac 
cursed  drug.  She  slipped  away  from  us  in  spite  of 
all  our  efforts,  and  during  this  last  year  returned 
only  once. 

"  Yet  I  think  she  has  felt  more  drawn  to  me  this  year 
than  in  all  the  time  of  our  marriage.  But  she  felt  her 
unworthiness  more.  She  had  listened  to  the  hymns 
sung  by  the  Salvation  Army  on  some  of  the  down 
town  corners,  and,  being  susceptible  to  impressions  of 


3IO  THE  MAN 

this  nature,  had  followed  the  singers  into  their  halls 
and  heard  some  of  the  good  words  that  are  uttered 
there.  Sometimes,  I  am  told,  she  laughed  at  what  she 
heard,  but  oftener  was  seen  to  cry,  and  once  she  her 
self  sang  till,  as  they  said,  the  very  heavens  seemed  to 
open.  When  I  heard  this,  I  could  not  keep  away 
from  these  meetings,  though  I  never  came  upon  her 
at  any  one  of  them  either  on  the  East  or  West  side. 
She  seemed  to  anticipate  my  approach  there  as  else 
where,  for  often  have  I  been  assured  that  she  had  just 
that  minute  gone  out,  and  must  be  somewhere  near, 
though  I  never  succeeded  in  finding  her. 

"This  looked  to  me  then  like  hate,  but  now  I  think 
it  was  simply  shame ;  for  when  she  knew  that  death 
was  upon  her  she  sent  for  me;  and,  seeing  the  old  look 
of  forbearance  on  my  face,  she  threw  up  her  wasted 
arms,  and,  panting  like  a  child  who  has  reached  its 
mother's  arms  at  last,  turned  her  tired,  tired  face 
towards  my  breast  with  a  feeble  'Forgive!'  and  died. 

"You  cannot  know  the  heart  of  a  man  who  has 
followed  his  lost  lamb  for  years  through  tangled 
thickets  and  by  headlong  precipices,  and  it  may  seem 
strange  for  me  to  pour  into  ears  so  hardened  and 
necessarily  so  unsympathetic  the  sacred  secrets  of 
my  soul.  But  my  position  is  a  strange  one  and  my 
story  one  that  must  be  told  in  its  entirety  for  you  to 
understand  why  that  smile  upon  her  face  is  so  much 
to  me  that  my  sole  prayer  at  this  time  is  to  be  allowed 
to  remain  in  sight  of  it  for  one  hour.  She  has  loved 
me  always;  not  as  I  loved  her,  not  to  the  point  of 
saving  me  one  heartache  or  sparing  me  one  erratic 
impulse  of  her  ungoverned  nature,  but  still  better 


BY    THE   LIGHT  OF  A    GUTTERING   CANDLE     311 

than  I  feared ;  better  than  her  conduct  would  show. 
For  when  I  came  to  lay  her  head  down  again  upon 
its  pillow,  I  found  tied  about  her  neck  and  fast 
clutched  in  her  chilling  palm,  this. 

"Our  wedding  ring,"  he  murmured.  "She  might 
have  pawned  it  for  a  dollar  during  any  of  the  many 
crises  of  her  miserable  life." 

He  paused,  put  the  token  back  in  his  breast,  and 
added  but  one  more  word.  "  When  she  was  alive  and 
well,  with  vigour  in  her  dancing  foot,  and  a  deathless 
unrest  in  her  gypsy  heart,  she  chafed  at  my  presence 
and  fled  from  my  protection.  But  when  the  final 
shadow  settled  and  she  felt  all  other  props  give  way, 
then  her  poor  arms  rose  in  recognition  of  the  love 
which  had  never  failed  her."  There  was  an  inde 
scribable  tone  of  triumph  in  his  tones.  "She  had 
need  of  me  in  her  dying  hours;  she  smiled " 

He  paused,  and  his  eyes,  which  had  been  fixed  on 
her  form,  rose  instinctively,  not  to  the  dingy  rafters 
overhead,  but  to  the  heaven  he  saw  above  those 
rafters.  For  him  her  spirit  had  fled  upward.  What 
ever  we  might  think  of  her,  to  him  she  was  henceforth 
a  being  blessed  and  gathered  into  a  refuge  from  which 
she  would  nevermore  seek  or  wish  to  escape. 

It  was  hard  to  break  into  this  calm  hopefulness 
with  words  of  stern  or  sinister  meaning.  But  Mr. 
Gryce  had  no  choice. 

"What,  then,  is  your  special  desire?"  asked  that 
officer. 

Mr.  Gillespie's  eyes  fell,  and  for  a  moment  he  stood 
thinking,  then  he  said; 


312  THE  MAN 

"  I  have  retribution  to  make  to  her  memory.  I  wish 
to  take  her  to  my  own  house  and  bury  her  from  there 
as  my  wife.  The  humiliation  from  which  my  pride 
recoiled  in  the  old  days  has  been  meted  out  to  me  ten 
fold.  I  no  longer  wish  to  evade  my  responsibilities." 

His  expression  as  he  said  this  was  very  different 
from  the  smile  I  had  surprised  on  his  face  the  night 
he  stooped  over  his  dead  father.  Yet  the  one  brought 
up  the  other,  and,  in  a  measure,  acted  as  a  mutual  in 
terpretation.  By  means  of  it  and  the  determination 
he  had  just  expressed,  I  could  comprehend  the  feeling 
of  that  moment,  when  with  police  in  the  house  and 
the  whole  family  subjected  to  a  suspicion  which  in 
volved  it  in  the  utmost  disgrace,  he  contemplated  the 
features  of  the  man  whose  pride  found  the  hemisphere 
in  which  he  lived  too  small  to  hold  both  himself  and 
the  daughter  whose  worst  fault  was  a  proclivity  to 
dance  and  sing. 

Mr.  Gryce,  who  had  no  such  memories  to  reconcile, 
was  meanwhile  surveying  the  young  man  with  a 
curious  hesitation. 

"  I  regret,"  said  he,  "the  presence  of  an  obstacle 
to  your  very  natural  wish  to  bury  your  wife  from  your 
own  house.  Mr.  Gillespie,  it  is  my  duty  to  inform 
you  that  we  are  not  here  on  a  simple  errand  of  sur 
veillance  :  my  orders  were  to  arrest  you  on  the  charge 
of  murdering  your  father." 


XXIX 

THE    QUIET    HOUR 

{WOULD  rather  have  been  spared  the  pain  of  that 
moment.  Mr.  Gryce  had  virtually  promised  that 
I  should  not  be  present  at  Mr.  Gillespie's  arrest,  but  I 
presume  he  forgot  not  only  his  promise  but  my 
very  existence  in  the  unexpected  interest  of  this  ex 
traordinary  situation.  Mr.  Gillespie,  who  at  another 
time  might  have  succumbed  to  the  emotion  of  seeing 
himself  singled  out  from  his  brothers  on  the  charge 
which  had  hitherto  involved  them  all,  was  already  in 
a  state  of  too  much  agitation  to  make  much  demon 
stration  over  this  fresh  humiliation.  Nevertheless  it 
became  evident,  from  the  droop  of  his  arms  and  the 
general  air  of  discouragement  which  crept  into  his 
whole  bearing,  that  the  iron  had  entered  his  soul  and 
the  climax  of  his  many  woes  had  been  reached. 

"  I  hoped  for  other  results  when  I  entered  upon  my 
long  and  painful  story,"  he  remarked.  "Certainly 
you  have  found  me  able  to  account  for  much  that  has 
seemed  anomalous  in  my  relations  to  my  father  and 
the  attitude  I  have  been  compelled  to  preserve  to 
wards  society.  I  am  surprised  that  anyone  should 
continue  to  regard  me  as  having  had  anything  to  do 
with  my  father's  unhappy  death.  May  I  ask  what 
special  evidence  you  imagine  yourselves  to  have 
against  me?  I  may  be  able  to  refute  it  with  a  word." 

313 


314  THE  MAN' 

This  was  more  than  Mr.  Gryce  could  grant,  and  he 
said  so,  though  with  less  imperturbability  of  manner 
than  usual.  "I  am  under  orders  to  bring  you  into 
the  presence  of  the  District  Attorney,"  he  explained, 
"who  will  use  his  own  discretion  in  the  matter  of 
having  you  detained.  Will  you  accompany  me 
quietly,  leaving  the  care  of  your  wife  to  Mr.  Outh- 
waite,  who,  I  am  sure,  will  follow  your  wishes  in  the 
choice  of  such  assistants  as  he  may  think  necessary 
to  employ?" 

The  look  he  received  in  return  was  eloquent  in  its 
appeal,  but  Mr.  Gryce  knew  no  relenting  where  his 
duty  was  concerned,  and,  recognising  this,  Mr.  Gilles- 
pie  took  a  fresh  resolve  and  boldly  said: 

"You  have  discovered  that  I  carried  a  bottle  of 
prussic  acid  into  my  father's  house  the  day  before  he 
died.  Shall  I  tell  you  where  I  procured  it ?  From  the 
hand  of  her  who  lies  here.  I  found  it  tied  about  her 
neck,  when,  after  months  of  fruitless  search,  I  was  led 
to  investigate  Mother  Merry's  lodging-house.  She 
was  asleep  when  I  discovered  it;  asleep  in  a  way  I 
always  found  it  impossible  to  break,  and  the  shock  of 
finding  her  in  quiet  possession  of  what  I  instinctively 
knew  to  be  poison  maddened  me  to  such  an  extent 
that  I  tore  the  phial  away  from  her  and  put  in  its 
place  a  roll  of  bank-notes.  These  were  probably  stolen 
from  her,  as  no  proof  remains  of  her  having  used  them ; 
but  the  bottle  I  carried  away,  having  impulsively 
thrust  it  into  my  trousers'  pocket  at  the  first  inti 
mation  I  received  of  a  raid  being  made  upon  the 
place  by  the  police." 

The  explanation  was  so  natural,  and  the  manner 


THE    QUIET  HOUR  31$ 

in  which  it  was  made  so  convincing,  that  the  detective's 
look  and  mine  crossed,  and  I  became  assured  that  he 
as  well  as  myself  was  beginning  to  give  credence  to 
this  man. 

"  I  can  give  no  information  of  the  use  which  was 
made  of  this  drug  after  its  introduction  into  my 
father's  home,  nor  can  I  designate  the  hand  which 
took  it  from  my  bureau  where  I  placed  it  on  emptying 
my  pockets.  My  connection  with  it  ended  at  the 
moment  I  speak  of.  I  did  not  even  think  of  it 
again  till  I  came  in  from  the  meeting  where  I  had 
vainly  sought  distraction,  and  found  my  father 
lying  low  and  heard  the  cry  of  poison  raised  in  the 
house." 

"This  would  have  been  a  welcome  explanation  at 
the  time,"  commented  Mr.  Gryce.  "Your  delay  has 
compromised  you." 

"So  be  it,"  was  the  short  but  proud  reply  which 
came  from  this  singular  man.  "When  you  reflect 
that  by  the  time  I  was  able  to  satisfy  myself  that  this 
bottle  was  missing  from  the  place  where  I  had  left  it, 
any  attempt  to  exonerate  myself  would  have  been  a 
virtual  accusation  of  one  of  my  two  brothers,  you  will 
realise  why  I  hesitated  to  speak  then,  and  only  bring 
myself  to  speak  now  under  the  compelling  force  of 
an  interest  greater  than  family  pride  or  affection.  In 
my  desire  to  share  the  last  offices  which  can  be  paid  to 
my  wife,  I  possibly  show  myself  for  the  second  time  a 
coward." 

Did  he?  Mr.  Gryce  did  not  seem  to  think  so.  The 
forehead  of  this  aged  detective  was  clearing  fast,  and 
he  actually  looked  younger  by  ten  years  than  when 


316  THE   MAN 

he  entered  this  house.  Yet  his  exactions  remained 
the  same,  and  Mr.  Gillespie  prepared  to  accommodate 
himself  to  them. 

Meanwhile  the  incessant  hammering  of  the  rain 
on  the  roof  had  become  less  noticeable,  and  the  drip, 
drip,  on  the  sill  without,  less  wearily  persistent. 
There  seemed,  too,  a  diminution  in  the  turbulence 
of  the  wind ;  the  doors  and  windows  did  not  rattle  so 
loudly,  and  the  worst  noises  in  the  yards  below  had 
ceased.  Anxious  to  see  if  the  storm  was  abating,  I 
raised  the  window  and  looked  out.  Rushing  clouds 
with  great  torn  edges  met  my  eye,  and,  below,  a  chaos 
of  towering  walls  surrounding  an  abyss  in  which  the 
imagination  could  picture  nothing  save  a  collection 
of  foul  yards  and  reeking  alleys.  Recoiling  from  a 
prospect  which  the  condition  of  my  mind  and  heart 
made  more  than  usually  gloomy,  I  turned  back  from 
the  possible  tragedies  hidden  behind  those  great  walls 
to  the  actual  one  in  which  I  had  myself  been  forced 
to  take  so  ungracious  apart.  Mr.  Gillespie  was  wait 
ing  to  speak  to  me. 

"I  am  allowed  to  give  you  the  names  of  such 
people  as  can  best  assist  you  in  the  removal  of  my 
wife,"  he  remarked.  "Here  they  are,  together  with 
the  address  in  New  Jersey  where  I  wish  her  ulti 
mately  carried.  Mr.  Gryce  will  give  you  what  fur 
ther  information  you  need — 

He  placed  a  paper  in  my  hand  with  a  word  of 
quiet  thanks,  to  which  I  responded  in  the  manner 
I  felt  would  be  most  pleasing  to  Hope.  Then  he 
cast  a  glance  at  the  detective. 

"  I   have  promised  Mr.   Gillespie  the  privilege  of 


THE   QUIET  HOUR  317 

passing  a  moment  in  this  room  unseen  and  alone," 
observed  that  official,  stepping  towards  the  door. 

I  bowed  and  withdrew,  shutting  Mr.  Gillespie  in 
and  ourselves  out.  Instantly  all  the  noises  in  the 
house  crowded  clamorously  to  our  ears.  Laughter, 
singing,  brawling,  the  screaming  of  children  and  the 
scolding  of  their  distracted  mothers,  made  a  sort  of 
pandemonium,  which  little  harmonised  with  the 
mood  induced  by  the  pathetic  story  we  had  just  heard. 
But  it  was  not  for  us  to  be  particular  at  such  a  mo 
ment,  and  I  was  glad  that  I  had  given  no  sign  of  my 
inward  disturbance,  when  Mr.  Gryce  suddenly 
remarked : 

"I  am  getting  old."  (His  alert  eye  and  attentive 
ear  turned  towards  the  room  we  had  just  left  did  not 
seem  to  indicate  it.)  "I  find  that  such  scenes  make 
a  deeper  impression  upon  me  than  formerly.  I  no 
longer  dwell  on  the  skill  it  takes  to  bring  them  about, 
but  rather  muse  upon  the  mistakes  and  woes  of  poor 
humanity  which  make  them  possible." 

I  wished  to  ask  him  what  he  thought  of  Mr.  Gil- 
lespie's  prospects,  but  he  gave  me  no  encourage 
ment  to  do  so,  and  we  remained  silent  till  the  door 
reopened  and  Mr.  Gillespie  came  out. 

"  I  am  ready  now,"  he  quietly  informed  us.  "Mr. 
Outhwaite,  I  can  trust  you;  and  if  Hope — "  He 
stopped  and  looked  the  entreaty  he  dared  not  utter. 

' '  I  will  tell  her  the  whole  story  just  as  it  has  fallen 
from  your  lips.  You  wish  me  to?" 

He  signified  his  assent,  but  still  looked  wistful. 

"When  she  has  heard  the  true  cause  of  the  divi 
sion  which  has  taken  place  between  you  and  other 


318  THE  MAN' 

members  of  your  family,  she  will  act  as  her  own  kind 
heart  will  prompt  her,"  I  added. 

He  would  have  pressed  my  hand,  but  remember 
ing  his  position  as  a  prisoner,  refrained. 

"Let  us  go,"  he  now  said,  in  natural  recoil  from 
the  noises  which  just  then  burst  in  renewed  outcry 
from  every  quarter  of  the  house. 

Mr.  Gryce  gave  a  faint  whistle.  It  was  answered 
in  the  same  guarded  manner  from  below.  At  which 
the  old  detective  turned  to  me  with  a  few  final  di 
rections,  after  which,  with  a  promise  to  leave  me  well 
guarded,  he  made  a  gesture  which  Mr.  Gillespie  could 
not  fail  to  understand.  They  began  to  descend. 
When  Mr.  Gillespie  was  half-way  down,  he  gave  one 
backward  look  at  the  door  swaying  between  him  and 
what  he  had  loved  best  on  earth;  then  he  passed  on, 
and  I  was  left  standing  on  that  dingy  landing,  alone. 

There  was  some  clamour  and  no  little  jeering  in 
the  rooms  below  as  the  detectives  passed  through 
them  with  their  well-dressed  prisoner;  but  these 
tokens  of  class  animosity  speedily  weakened  to  a 
sullen  growl,  amidst  which  I  thought  I  heard  the 
rattling  of  departing  wheels. 

With  a  heart  as  heavy  as  the  silence  which  now 
filled  the  house,  I  turned  and  went  back  into  that 
room. 

It  was  filled  with  moonlight.  The  candle  from 
which  the  winding-sheet  had  long  ago  melted  and 
run  upon  the  table,  had  flickered  out,  but  its  fitful 
flame  was  not  missed.  The  clouds  which  had  seemed 
so  impenetrable  a  short  time  before,  had  thinned 
out  and  parted  till  they  flecked,  rather  than  covered, 


THE   QUIET  HOUR  319 

the  white  disk  of  the  moon,  now  revealed  for  the 
first  time  in  days. 

That  storm  and  that  clearing  have  never  left  my 
memory.  As  the  last  lingering  shred  of  cloud  drifted 
away,  leaving  the  face  of  the  moon  quite  clear,  I 
found  courage  to  look  once  more  towards  the  bed. 

There  was  a  change  there.  She  lay,  not  as  before, 
with  her  features  quite  concealed,  but  with  her  face 
exposed  save  where  the  loose  curls  had  forced  their 
way  across  her  cheeks  and  forehead.  The  coverlet, 
drawn  close  under  her  chin,  hung  smooth  and  decent 
to  the  floor,  and  across  it  lay  stretched  one  white 
arm,  upon  the  hand  of  which  shone  the  wedding-ring 
which  Leighton  Gillespie  had  taken  from  her  neck 
and  placed  there. 


XXX 

AN    UNEXPECTED    ALLY 

THAT  night  was  a  busy  one  for  me;  nevertheless 
I  found  time  to  send  a  message  to  Hope,  in 
which  I  begged  her  to  read  no  papers  till  she  saw 
me,  and,  if  possible,  to  keep  herself  in  her  own  room. 
To  these  hurried  words  I  added  the  comforting  assur 
ance  that  the  news  I  had  to  bring  her  would  repay 
her  for  this  display  of  self-control,  and  that  I  would 
not  keep  her  waiting  any  longer  than  was  necessary. 
But  it  was  fully  ten  o'clock  before  I  was  able  to  keep 
this  promise,  and  I  found  her  looking  pale  and  worn. 

"I  have  obeyed  you,"  she  said,  with  an  attempt 
at  smiling  as  pitiful  as  it  was  ineffectual.  "What  has 
happened?  Why  did  you  not  want  me  to  see  the 
papers  or  talk  with  Mrs.  Penrhyn?" 

"Because  I  wished  to  be  the  first  to  tell  you  the 
secret  of  Leighton  Gillespie's  life.  It  was  not  what 
was  suggested  to  you  by  the  discrepancies  you  ob 
served  between  his  character  and  life.  He  is  sane 
as  any  man,  but — "  it  was  hard  to  proceed,  with 
those  eyes  of  unspeakable  longing  looking  straight 
into  mine — "but  he  has  had  great  sorrows  to  bear, 
great  suspenses  to  endure,  a  deception  to  keep  up, 
not  altogether  justifiable,  perhaps,  but  yet  one  that 
was  not  without  some  excuse.  His  wife — Did  you 
ever  see  his  wife?" 

320 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ALLY  $21 

"No,"  she  faltered. 

" — Did  not  perish  in  that  disaster  of  five  years 
ago,  as  everyone  supposed;  and  it  was  she " 

"Oh!"  came  in  a  burst  of  sudden  comprehension 
from  Hope,  as  she  sank  down  out  of  sight  among 
the  curtains  by  the  window.  But  the  next  moment 
she  was  standing  again,  crying  in  low  tones  in  which 
I  caught  a  note  of  immeasurable  relief,  "I  thank 
God!  I  thank  God!"  Then  the  sobs  came. 

I  noticed  that,  once  she  had  taken  in  this  fact  of 
his  personal  rectitude,  all  fear  left  her  as  to  the  truth 
of  the  more  serious  charge  against  him.  Even  after 
I  had  explained  to  her  how  he  came  by  the  phial  of 
poison,  and  how  it  was  through  his  agency  it  came 
to  be  in  his  father's  house,  no  doubt  came  to  mar 
her  restored  confidence  in  this  her  most  cherished 
relative.  She  even  admitted  that,  now  this  one 
unexplainable  point  in  his  character  had  been  made 
clear  to  her,  she  felt  ready  to  meet  any  accusations 
which  might  be  raised  against  him.  "Let  them 
publish  their  suspicions  !  "  she  cried.  "He  can  bear 
them  and  so  can  I ;  for  now  that  he  has  been  proven 
a  true  man,  nothing  else  much  matters.  I  may 
blush  at  hearing  his  name, — it  will  be  years,  I  think, 
before  I  shall  overcome  that, — but  it  will  be  because 
I  failed  to  see  in  his  kindness  to  me  the  sympathetic 
interest  of  one  whose  heart  has  been  made  tender 
towards  women  by  his  wild  longing  after  the  wan 
dering  spirit  whom  he  called  his  wife." 

Then  she  asked  where  I  had  placed  Mille-fleurs 
(a  name  so  natural  to  Millicent  Gillespie  that  no  other 
was  ever  suggested  by  her  friends) ;  and,  having  been 


322  THE  MAN 

told  where,  said  she  would  like  to  sit  beside  her  until 
the  time  came  to  lay  her  in  the  garden  of  that  little 
home  from  which  all  shadow  was  now  cleared  away 
save  that  of  chastened  sorrow. 

As  this  was  what  Leighton  Gillespie  secretly 
wished,  I  promised  to  accompany  her  to  New  Jersey, 
and  then,  taking  this  pure-hearted  girl  by  the  hand, 
I  asked: 

"Have  I  performed  my  task  well?" 

Her  answer  was — but  that  is  my  secret.  Small 
reason  as  it  gave  me  for  personal  hope,  I  yet  went 
from  that  house  with  my  heart  lightened  of  its 
heaviest  load. 

I  did  not  read  the  papers  myself  that  morning.  I 
had  little  heart  for  a  reporter's  version  of  what  had 
so  thrilled  me  coming  from  Leighton's  own  lips. 
Merely  satisfying  myself  that  the  latter  was  still  in 
custody,  I  busied  myself  with  what  came  up  in  my 
office,  till  the  stroke  of  five  released  me  to  a  free 
exercise  of  my  own  thoughts. 

How  much  nearer  were  we  to  the  solution  of  this 
mystery  than  we  had  been  the  morning  following 
Mr.  Gillespie's  death?  Not  much;  and  while  Hope 
and  possibly  myself  felt  that  the  band  of  suspicion 
had  narrowed  in  its  circle,  and  by  the  exclusion  of 
Leighton,  whom  we  could  no  longer  look  upon  as 
guilty,  left  the  question  of  culpability  to  be  settled 
between  the  two  remaining  sons  of  the  deceased 
stockbroker,  to  the  world  in  general  and  to  the  readers 
of  sensational  journals  which  now  flooded  the  city 
with  accounts  of  the  most  sacred  incidents  of  Leigh- 
ton  Gillespie's  past  life  he  was  still  the  man  through 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ALL  Y  323 

whose  agency  the  poison  had  entered  the  Gillespie 
house.  Nor  could  we  fail  to  see  that  the  feeling 
called  out  by  these  tales  of  his  domestic  infelicities 
and  the  wild  search  in  which  most  of  his  life  had 
been  passed  had  its  reverse  side  for  those  people 
who  read  all  stories  of  disinterested  affection  with 
doubt,  and  place  no  more  faith  in  true  religion  than 
if  the  few  bright  spots  made  in  the  universal  history 
of  mankind  by  acts  of  unselfish  devotion  had  no 
basis  in  fact,  and  were  as  imaginary  as  the  dreams 
of  poet  or  romancer. 

That  Leighton  Gillespie  had  not  been  released 
after  his  conference  with  the  District  Attorney  was 
proof  that  his  way  was  not  as  clear  before  him  as 
I  had  hoped.  Yet  I  was  positive  that  Mr.  Gryce  as 
well  as  Sweetwater  shared  my  belief  in  his  inno 
cence;  and  while  this  was  a  comfort  to  me,  I  found 
my  mind  much  exercised  by  the  doubt  as  to  what 
the  next  turn  of  the  kaleidoscope  would  call  up  in 
this  ever-changing  case. 

I  had  not  seen  Underbill  in  days,  and  I  rather 
dreaded  a  chance  meeting.  He  did  not  like  Leigh- 
ton,  and  would  be  the  first  to  throw  contempt  upon 
any  mercy  being  shown  him  on  account  of  his  faith 
ful  attachment  to  his  disreputable  wife.  I  seemed 
to  hear  the  drawling  query  with  which  this  favourite 
of  the  clubs  would  end  any  attempt  I  might  make 
in  this  direction:  "And  so  you  think  it  probable 
that  a  man — a  man,  remember,  with  a  child  liable 
to  flutter  in  and  out  of  his  room  at  all  hours — 
would  leave  a  phial  of  deadly  poison  on  his  dresser 
and  never  think  of  it  again?  Not  much,  old  man. 


324  THE  MAN 

If  he  laid  it  down  there,  which  I  doubt,  he  took  it 
up  again.  Don't  waste  your  sympathy  on  a  cad." 

Yet  I  did;  and  to  such  an  extent  that  I  took  a 
walk  instead  of  going  home  and  hearing  these  imag 
inary  sentences  uttered  in  articulated  words.  I 
walked  up  Madison  Avenue,  and,  coming  upon  a 
store  which  had  a  reputation  for  an  extra  fine  brand 
of  cigars,  I  went  in  to  buy  one. 

Have  you  ever  greatly  desired  an  event  which 
your  common  sense  told  you  was  most  unlikely  to 
happen,  and  then  suddenly  seen  it  wrought  out 
before  you  in  the  most  unforeseen  manner  and  by 
the  most  ordinary  of  means?  From  the  first  night 
of  the  tragedy  with  which  these  pages  have  been 
full,  I  had  wished  for  an  interview  with  the  old  but 
ler,  without  witnesses,  and  as  the  result  of  a  seeming 
chance.  But  I  had  never  seen  my  way  clear  to  this ; 
and  now,  in  this  place  and  in  this  unexpected  man 
ner,  I  came  upon  him  buying  fruit  at  a  grocer's 
counter. 

I  did  not  hesitate  to  approach  him. 

"How  do  you  do,  Hewson?"  said  I,  with  a  kindly 
tap  on  his  shoulder. 

He  turned  slowly,  gave  me  a  look  that  was  half 
an  apology  and  half  an  appeal,  then  dropped  his 
eyes. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir? "  said  he. 

"Been  buying  oranges  for  the  family?"  I  went 
on.  "Startling  news,  this!  I  mean  the  arrest  of 
Mr.  Gillespie's  second  son.  I  never  thought  of  him 
as  the  guilty  one,  did  you?" 

The  old  butler  did  not  break  all  up  as  I  expected. 


AN  UNEXPECTED   ALLY  $2$ 

He  only  shook  his  head,  and,  taking  up  the  bundle 
which  had  just  been  handed  him,  remarked: 

"We  little  know  what  's  in  the  mind  of  the  babies 
we  dandle  in  our  arms,"  and  went  feebly  out. 

I  laid  down  a  quarter,  took  a  cigar  from  the  case, 
forgot  to  light  it,  and  sauntered  into  the  street  with 
it  still  in  my  hand.  I  felt  thoroughly  discouraged, 
and  walked  down  the  avenue  in  a  sort  of  black  mist 
formed  of  my  own  doubts  and  Hewson's  calm  accept 
ance  of  the  guilt  attributed  to  Leighton.  But  sud 
denly  I  stopped,  put  the  cigar  in  my  pocket,  and 
exclaimed  in  vehement  contradiction  of  my  own 
uneasy  thoughts:  "Leighton  Gillespie  is  as  guilt 
less  of  his  father's  death  as  of  other  charges  which 
have  been  made  against  him.  I  am  ready  to  stake 
my  own  honour  upon  it,"  and  went  immediately 
to  my  apartments,  without  stopping,  as  I  usually 
did,  at  Underbill's  door. 

i  found  a  young  man  waiting  for  me  in  the  ves 
tibule.  He  had  evidently  been  standing  there  for 
some  time,  for  he  no  sooner  heard  my  step  than  he 
gave  a  bound  forward  with  the  eager  cry : 

"It  is  I,  sir, — Sweetwater." 

He  was  a  welcome  visitor  at  that  moment,  and  I 
was  willing  he  should  realise  it. 

"Come  in;  come  in,"  I  urged.  "New  develop 
ments,  eh?  Mr.  Gillespie  released,  perhaps,  or " 

"No,"  was  his  disappointing  response  as  the  door 
closed  behind  us  and  he  sank  into  the  chair  I  pushed 
forward.  "Mr.  Gillespie  is  still  in  detention  and 
there  are  no  new  developments.  But  another  day 
must  not  pass  without  them.  I  was  witness  to  the 


326  THE  MAN 

sympathy  you  felt  last  night  for  the  man  who  claimed 
the  wretched  being  we  saw  before  us  for  his  wife; 
and,  feeling  a  little  soft-hearted  towards  him  myself, 
I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  lay  your  head  with  mine 
over  this  case  in  the  hope  that  we  two  together  may 
light  upon  some  clue  which  will  lead  to  his  imme 
diate  enlargement.  For  I  cannot  believe  him 
guilty;  I  just  cannot.  It  was  one  of  the  others. 
But  which  one?  I  don't  mean  to  eat  or  sleep  till  I 
find  out." 

"And  Mr.  Gryce?" 

"He  won't  bother.  Last  night  was  too  much  for 
him,  and  he  has  gone  home.  The  field  is  clear,  sir, 
quite  clear;  and  I  mean  to  profit  by  it.  Leighton 
Gillespie  shall  be  freed  in  time  to  attend  his  wife's 
funeral  or  I  will  give  up  the  detective  business  and 
go  back  to  the  carpenter's  bench  and  my  dear  old 
mother  in  Sutherlandtown. ' ' 


XXXI 

SWEETWATER    HAS    AN    IDEA 

I  WAS    greatly  interested.     Taking    out  a  box  of 
cigars,  I  laid  it  before  him  on  the  table. 

"Be  free  with  them,"  said  I.  "If  there  is  any 
help  to  be  got  out  of  smoke  let  us  make  use  of  it." 

He  eyed  the  cigars  ruefully. 

"Too  bad,"  he  murmured;  "unfortunately,  it 
does  not  work  that  way  with  me.  Some  people 
think  better  between  whiffs,  but  smoking  clouds 
my  faculties,  and  I  would  be  no  friend  to  Mr.  Gil- 
lespie  if  I  took  your  cigars  now.  Free  air  and  an 
undisturbed  mind  for  Caleb  Sweetwater  when  he 
settles  down  to  work.  Smoke  yourself,  sir;  that 
won't  affect  me;  but  draw  the  box  to  your  side  of 
the  table  and  give  me  a  rebuking  look  if  my  hand 
goes  out  to  it  before  this  subject  is  settled." 

I  did  as  he  requested,  but  not  to  the  point  of  taking 
a  cigar.  I  could  think  without  its  aid  as  well  as  he. 

"Now,  sir,"  he  immediately  began,  "you  were 
the  first  man  to  enter  upon  the  scene  of  crime.  May 
I  ask  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  relate  afresh  and 
circumstantially  your  whole  experience  with  Mr. 
Gillespie?  You  cannot  be  too  minute  in  your  de 
tails.  Somehow  or  somewhere  we  have  missed  the 
clue  necessary  to  the  clearing  up  of  this  case.  You 

327 


328  THE  MAN 

may  be  able  to  supply  it.     Will  it  bore  you  too  much 
to  try?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  I  am  as  anxious  as  yourself 
to  get  at  the  bottom  of  this  business." 

"Begin,  then,  sir.  You  won't  mind  my  closing 
my  eyes?  I  find  it  so  much  easier  to  identify  my 
self  with  the  situation  when  I  see  nothing  about  to 
distract  me.  And,  sir,  since  I  dread  speaking  when 
actively  absorbed  in  this  kind  of  work,  will  you  par 
don  me  if  I  simply  raise  my  finger  when  I  want  a 
minute  for  reflection?  I  know  I  am  a  crank,  and 
not  much  used  to  gentlemen's  ways,  but  I  appreciate 
kindness  more  than  most  folks,  especially  when  it 
takes  the  form  of  respect  paid  to  my  whims." 

I  assured  him  I  was  only  too  ready  to  do  anything 
which  would  serve  to  further  the  end  we  had  in  view; 
and  all  preliminaries  being  thus  amicably  settled 
he  dropped  his  head  into  his  hands  and  I  began  my 
tale  in  much  the  same  language  I  have  used  in  these 
pages.  He  listened  without  a  movement  while  I 
spoke  of  Claire  and  of  my  entrance  into  the  house, 
but  his  finger  went  up  when  I  mentioned  the  appear 
ance  presented  by  Mr.  Gillespie  as  he  stood  propping 
himself  against  the  table  in  a  condition  of  impend 
ing  collapse. 

"Was  the  house  quiet?"  he  asked.  "Did  you 
hear  no  sneaking  step  in  the  halls  or  adjacent  dining- 
room?" 

"Not  a  step.  I  remember  receiving  the  impres 
sion  that  this  old  gentleman  and  his  grandchild  were 
all  alone  in  the  house.  One  of  the  greatest  sur 
prises  of  my  life  was  the  discovery  that  there  were 


SWEETWATER  HAS  AN  IDEA  329 

servants  in  the  basement  and  more  than  one  mem 
ber  of  the  family  on  the  floors  above." 

"A  discovery  which  leads  to  our  first  argument, 
sir.  We  have  taken  it  for  granted  (and  certainly 
we  were  justified  in  doing  so)  that  Mr.  Gillespie 
knew  whose  hand  poured  out  the  poison  he  felt  burn 
ing  into  his  vitals.  We  have  argued  that  it  was  this 
knowledge  which  led  him  to  spend  the  final  moments 
of  his  life  in  an  extraordinary  effort  to  settle  the 
doubts  of  his  favourite  niece.  But,  sir,  if  he  had 
had  this  knowledge,  would  he  not  have  mentioned 
outright  and  without  any  circumlocution  the  name 
of  the  son  he  had  finally  settled  upon  as  the  guilty 
one,  rather  than  have  made  use  of  the  same  vague 
phrase  which  had  been  his  torment  and  hers,  ever 
since  the  hour  he  told  her  of  the  shadowy  hand  he 
had  detected  hovering  over  his  glass  of  medicine? 
With  the  remembrance  in  your  mind  of  the  few 
words  he  left  behind  him,  are  you  ready  to  declare 
that  you  find  in  them  any  proof  of  his  knowing  then, 
any  better  than  before,  which  of  his  three  sons  had 
mingled  poison  with  his  drink?  And,  sir, — you  are 
a  lawyer, — does  it  follow  from  any  evidence  we  have 
since  received  that  he  even  positively  knew  it  was 
one  of  these  three  men?  Might  not  his  fears  and 
the  haunting  memory  of  that  former  attempt  have 
so  worked  upon  his  failing  faculties  that  he  took  for 
granted  it  was  one  of  his  sons  who  had  made  this 
last  effort  at  poisoning  him?" 

"  It  is  possible,"  I  admitted,  "  but " 

"You  don't  place  much  stress  on  the  suggestion." 
"No,"  said  I,  "I  don't.     Anxious  as  I   am  that 


33O  THE   MAN 

each  and  all  of  these  young  men  should  be  relieved 
from  the  appalling  charge  of  parricide,  I  saw  too 
great  a  display  of  anxiety  on  his  part  for  the  right 
delivery  of  what  he  believed  to  hold  the  last  com 
munication  he  had  to  make  to  his  favourite  niece, 
for  me  to  think  these  final  words  of  his  contained 
nothing  more  definite  than  a  repetition  of  his  former 
vague  surmise.  He  was  facing  immediate  death, 
yet  all  his  thought,  all  his  fast- ebbing  strength,  were 
devoted  to  the  effort  of  making  her  know  that  he 
had  not  been  mistaken  in  his  former  conclusion: 
that  it  was  one  of  his  sons  who  sought  his  life,  and 
that  this  son  had  now  actually  succeeded  in  poison 
ing  him.  That  he  did  not  proceed  further  and 
name  which  one,  was  due  probably  to  a  sudden  loss 
of  strength.  That  he  meant  to  say  more  than  he 
did  is  evident  from  the  he  which  follows  the  four 
words  we  have  been  considering." 

"True,  true,  but  my  argument  holds;  an  argu 
ment  which  the  difficulties  of  the  case  surely  justify 
me  in  advancing.  You  say  he  would  never  have 
made  such  an  effort  to  insure  the  safe  delivery  of 
words  that  were  a  mere  repetition  of  a  former  state 
ment.  Yet  what  more  were  they  in  the  unfinished 
condition  in  which  we  find  them?  Do  you  think 
he  could  have  been  blind  to  the  fact  that  he  had  not 
succeeded  in  mentioning  the  name  which  alone  could 
give  value  to  his  accusation,  and  make  its  safe  de 
livery  a  matter  of  real  moment  to  Miss  Meredith? 
Surely,  sir,  you  do  not  believe  his  wits  were  so  far 
gone  that  he  regarded  himself  as  having  made  his  sus 
picions  clear  in  those  five  words:  one  of  my  sons  he"? 


SWEETWATER  HAS  AN  IDEA  33! 

"No,  I  do  not.  Yet  who  can  tell.  Bright  as  his 
eye  was,  his  faculty  of  memory  as  well  as  of  observ 
ation  may  have  left  him.  Witness  how  he  tore 
off  the  blank  edge  of  the  paper,  instead  of  the  words 
he  wished  to  send." 

"I  know." 

Sweetwater's  tone  was  gloomy;  a  cloud  seemed 
to  have  settled  upon  his  newly  risen  hopes. 

"  Nevertheless,"  I  now  felt  bound  to  admit,  "  I  can 
not  quite  bring  myself  to  believe  that  he  was  so  bewil 
dered.  On  the  contrary,  I  feel  confident  that  he 
was  in  full  possession  of  his  faculties  when  he  cast 
that  dramatic  glance  upward,  which,  by  a  happy 
inspiration,  I  was  led  to  interpret  as  meaning  Hope. 
If  we  could  penetrate  this  matter  to  its  very  core,  I 
believe  we  should  find  the  truth  we  seek  either  in 
those  five  words  themselves  or  in  the  means  he  took 
of  getting  them  to  Miss  Meredith.  Have  you  ever 
thought,  Sweetwater,  that  we  have  not  given  all 
the  attention  we  should  to  the  latter  fact?" 

"Yes,  sir."  His  hands  had  fallen  from  his  face, 
and  he  spoke  with  volubility.  "  It  has  struck  you, 
I  see,  as  oddly  as  it  has  us,  that  it  was  a  very  strange 
thing  for  him  to  send  into  the  street  for  a  messenger 
when  he  had  one  right  at  his  hand." 

"Claire,  do  you  mean?" 

"Yes." 

"But  Claire  is  a  child;  the  slip  of  paper  to  which 
he  attached  such  importance  was  unsealed  and  he 
dreaded  its  falling  into  wrong  hands.  Miss  Mere 
dith  already  knew  his  secret,  but  for  him  to  pro 
claim  openly  that  his  death  was  due  to  the  hatred 


332  THE  MAN 

or  cupidity  of  one  of  his  children  would  not  be  the 
act  of  a  father  who  already,  at  the  cost  of  so  much 
misery  to  himself, — nay,  as  it  proved,  at  the  cost  of 
his  life, — had  kept  back  from  every  ear  save  that 
of  the  one  confidant  of  his  misery,  a  knowledge  of 
the  fact  that  a  previous  attempt  had  been  made 
upon  his  life." 

"  Yet  to  send  into  the  street  for  a  messenger!  Why 
not  send  for  one  of  the  servants?  Or  why,  if  he 
knew  which  son  he  had  cause  to  fear,  did  he  not  bid 
the  child  bring  down  one  of  the  others? " 

"Leighton  was  out,  George  was  half  drunk,  and 
Alfred  was  two  flights  up.  Besides,  he  might  have 
thought  that  an  alarm  of  this  kind  would  prevent 
the  delivery  of  the  letter  on  which  he  laid  such  stress. 
Who  knows  what  goes  on  in  the  mind  of  a  man  con 
scious  of  having  but  one  minute  in  which  to  perform 
the  most  important  act  of  his  life? " 

"True,  true,  sir;  and  yet  there  is  something  un 
natural  in  his  conduct,  something  I  fail  to  under 
stand.  But  I  don't  despair.  I  won't  despair;  we 
have  only  begun  the  recapitulation  of  details  from 
which  I  hope  so  much;  supposing  we  go  on."  And 
he  sunk  his  head  again  in  his  hands. 

I  at  once  took  up  the  thread  of  my  relation  at  the 
point  where  I  had  dropped  it. 

"When  I  approached  Mr.  Gillespie  I  noted  three 
things  besides  his  tortured  face  and  sinking  figure. 
First,  that  the  shade  was  pulled  up  over  his  desk; 
second,  that  a  typewriter  stood  close  to  his  hand; 
and  third,  that  a  pot  of  paste,  knocked  over  by  some 
previous  movement  on  his  part,  lay  near  the  type- 


SWEETWATER  HAS  AN  IDEA  333 

writer,  with  its  contents  oozing  over  a  sheet  of  un 
used  paper.  You  ask  me  to  mention  all  details  and 
I  have  done  so." 

Dreamily  he  moved  his  finger,  but  whether  in 
thanks  or  in  an  injunction  for  me  to  continue,  I  could 
not  determine.  I  therefore  remained  still. 

"I  saw  the  paste,"  he  murmured.  And  taking 
this  as  an  intimation  to  proceed,  I  went  on  till  I 
came  to  the  moment  when  I  pulled  down  the  shade. 

"You  glanced  out  as  you  did  that?"  said  he,  lift 
ing  his  finger  as  a  signal  for  me  to  pause. 

"Yes." 

"And  saw  Mr.  Rosenthal  in  his  room  in  the  neigh 
bouring  extension  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

"  Standing  how?  With  his  back  or  his  face  to  the 
window?" 

"His  back.     He  was  sauntering  about  his  room." 

"So  that  settles  one  fact.  He  had  not  been  look 
ing  into  Mr.  Gillespie's  room  at  a  critical  moment. 
Had  he  seen  that  gentleman  in  a  suffering  condition 
or  noted  the  curious  incidents  following  your  en 
trance,  he  would  have  been  held  to  the  spot  by  his 
curiosity,  and  you  would  have  encountered  his  eager 
face  staring  down  upon  a  scene  of  such  uncommon 
interest." 

"Very  true.  All  he  saw  was  the  seemingly  in 
significant  incident  of  Mr.  Gillespie  emptying  the 
contents  of  a  wine-glass  out  of  his  window." 

As  Sweetwater  had  no  remark  to  make  to  this,  I 
proceeded  with  my  narrative,  relating,  with  a  care 
ful  attention  to  details,  my  journey  up-stairs,  the 


334  THE 

words  I  had  overheard  at  the  door  of  Alfred's  room, 
my  first  sight  of  Hope,  and — I  was  proceeding  to  de 
scribe  the  results  of  my  intrusion  into  the  Gillespie 
attic,  when  I  perceived  that  Sweetwater  was  no 
longer  listening.  His  head,  which  he  had  raised 
from  between  his  hands,  was  turned  my  way,  but 
his  eyes  were  looking  into  space  and  his  whole  body 
was  quivering  in  intense  excitement,  such  as  I  have 
seldom  seen.  As  I  paused,  he  came  back  to  earth 
and  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Come,"  he  cried.  "Come  with  me  to  the  Gil 
lespie  house.  I  have  an  idea.  It  may  not  stand 
the  test,  it  may  prove  a  fatuous  one,  but " 

The  very  hair  on  his  forehead  was  bristling;  the 
eagerness  he  tried  to  keep  out  of  his  voice  showed 
itself  in  his  eyes  and  in  every  jerking  movement 
which  he  made. 

"Come,"  he  cried  again;  "it  is  not  late.  We 
will  find  the  young  gentlemen  at  home  and  per 
haps " 

He  added  nothing  to  that  significant  "perhaps," 
but  his  repressed  excitement  had  awakened  mine, 
and  my  hat  was  on  and  I  was  following  him  down 
stairs  before  I  realised  that  I  had  failed  to  turn  out 
my  gas. 

As  I  wheeled  about  with  the  intention  of  rectify 
ing  this  oversight,  I  encountered  Underhill's  languid 
figure  loitering  in  his  doorway.  He  accosted  me 
with  an  easy: 

"Halloo,  Outhwaite!"  Then,  as  he  leaned  close 
enough  to  whisper  in  my  ear,  he  added,  in  an  inde 
scribable  drawl,  these  unexpected  words: 


SWEETWATER  HAS  AN  IDEA  335 

"  I  recognise  your  friend  there.  If  you  are  piling 
up  the  evidence  against  poor  Leighton  Gillespie, 
you  are  doing  wrong.  No  fellow  with  a  heart  like 
his  ever  put  poison  into  his  father's  wine." 

Which  shows  the  folly  of  thinking  you  know  a 
man's  mind  before  he  speaks  it. 


XXXII 

WITH    THE    SHADE    DOWN 

NOT  many  words  passed  between  Sweetwater 
and  myself  on  our  way  up  the  Avenue.  He 
had  his  "idea"  to  brood  upon,  while  I  was  engaged 
in  turning  over  in  my  mind  various  vague  conject 
ures  rising  out  of  the  argument  we  had  just  indulged 
in.  But  before  reaching  the  point  of  our  destina 
tion,  I  ventured  upon  one  question. 

"Have  you,  during  any  of  your  investigations, 
public  or  private,  learned  which  of  the  three  sons 
of  Mr.  Gillespie  is  the  greatest  favourite  with  the 
old  family  servant,  Hewson?" 

"No;  that  is,  yes.     Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  Because  if  it  is  not  Leighton " 

"And  it  certainly  is  not." 

"Then  I  advise  you  to  direct  your  energies  towards 
the  one  he  is  known  to  like  best." 

Sweetwater  stopped  short  and  surveyed  me  in 
very  evident  surprise  before  venturing  upon  the  fol 
lowing  remark : 

"  I  should  like  to  know  just  why  you  say  that? " 

I  replied  by  relating  my  interview  with  the  butler 
in  the  drug-store,  and  his  easy  acceptance  of  Leigh- 
ton's  guilt  as  implied  in  the  arrest  which  had  just 
taken  place. 

336 


WITH  THE   SHADE  DOWN  337 

Sweetwater  listened  and  moved  on ;  but  so  quickly 
now  I  could  hardly  keep  pace  with  him. 

"  If  my  idea  has  no  will-o'-the-wisp  uncertainty 
in  it,  and  I  have  lighted  upon  a  way  out  of  this  mys 
tery,  I  will  be  made  for  life,"  he  declared,  as  we 
reached  the  Gillespie  house  and  he  paused  for  a  mo 
ment  at  the  foot  of  the  steps.  "But  there!  I  'm 
counting  chickens — something  which  Mr.  Gryce 
never  approves  of  at  any  stage  of  the  game."  And 
rushing  up  the  stoop,  he  rang  the  bell,  while  I  waited 
below  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  as  they  say. 

Who  would  respond  to  the  summons ;  and  if  we 
effected  an  entrance — which  I  felt  to  be  a  matter 
of  some  doubt — whom  would  we  be  likely  to  come 
upon  in  a  visit  of  this  nature?  George?  Alfred? 
I  did  not  like  to  ask,  and  Sweetwater  did  not  volun 
teer  to  inform  me. 

The  opening  of  the  door  cut  short  my  reflections 
as  well  as  gave  answer  to  my  last-mentioned  doubt. 
Old  Hewson,  and  Hewson  only,  opened  the  door  of 
this  house;  and  whether  this  renewed  encounter 
with  his  patient  figure  had  something  disappointing 
in  it,  or  whether  the  solemn  grandeur  of  the  interior 
thus  quietly  disclosed  to  view  produced  an  impres 
sion  of  family  life  that  was  more  than  painful  under 
the  circumstances,  I  experienced  a  recoil  from  the 
errand  which  had  brought  me  there,  and  would  have 
retreated  if  I  had  not  recalled  Hope's  interest  in  this 
matter,  and  the  joy  it  would  give  her  to  see  Leighton 
Gillespie  proved  innocent  of  the  crime  for  which  he 
was  at  present  held  in  custody. 

Meantime,    Sweetwater,    with    an    air    of    perfect 


338  THE  MAN 

nonchalance  admirably  assumed,  had  stepped  past 
Hewson  into  the  house.  Evidently  he  was  accustomed 
to  go  in  and  out  of  the  place  at  will,  and  though  the 
old  servant  did  not  fail  to  show  his  indignation  at 
this  palpable  infringement  upon  the  family  dignity, 
he  did  not  abate  a  jot  of  his  usual  politeness  or  even 
watch  the  unwelcome  intruder  too  closely  in  his  pas 
sage  down  the  hall. 

But  his  complaisance  did  not  extend  to  me.  He 
gave  me  a  look  which  demanded  a  response. 

"Some  formality  of  the  law!"  I  whispered,  hoping 
that  the  unaccustomed  words  would  befog  the  old 
man  sufficiently  to  cover  my  own  embarrassment, 
and  answer  any  doubts  he  might  have  as  to  the  pur 
pose  of  our  errand  there.  And  perhaps  they  did, 
for,  with  some  muttered  words,  among  which  I  heard 
this  pathetic  phrase,  "There  are  so  many  of  them!" 
he  crept  away  and  disappeared  through  the  door 
leading  into  the  dining-room.  As  he  did  so,  I  noted 
a  man  sitting  on  a  settee  pushed  well  into  the  corner 
near  the  study  door.  I  did  not  know  this  man;  I 
only  noted  that  he  sat  there  very  quietly,  and  that 
the  only  movement  he  made  at  our  approach  was 
a  slight  raising  and  falling  of  his  fingers  on  his  crossed 
arms. 

We  were  making  for  the  study  behind  the  stairs, 
and  into  this  room  Sweetwater,  after  unlocking  it 
with  a  key  he  had  taken  from  his  pocket,  now  walked: 

"Do  you  object  to  visiting  this  place  again?"  he 
asked,  striking  a  match  and  reaching  up  to  light  the 
gas. 

Of  course  I  answered  no,  yet  it  was  not  quite  a 


WITH  THE   SHADE  DOWN  339 

pleasant  experience  to  stand  there  and  watch  the 
light  flickering  on  his  face,  in  a  spot  where  I  had  last 
seen  the  one  horrid  spectacle  of  my  life. 

But  when  the  cheerful  flame  had  sprung  up,  and 
walls  made  familiar  not  by  long  seeing  but  close 
seeing  had  come  into  view,  I  was  conscious  simply 
of  a  strong  desire  to  know  why  I  had  been  brought 
to  this  room  in  such  haste  and  secrecy,  and  what 
the  "idea"  was  which  had  produced  so  marked  an 
effect  upon  my  singular  companion. 

He  showed  no  immediate  intention  of  enlightening 
me.  He  was  engaged  in  casting  a  keen  glance  about 
him,  a  glance  which  seemingly  took  in  every  detail 
of  the  well-remembered  room;  then,  as  if  satisfied 
that  nothing  had  been  disturbed  since  his  last  visit, 
he  advanced  to  the  window  and  pulled  down  the 
shade. 

"We  will  not  have  the  curious  Mr.  Rosenthal  giv 
ing  away  our  secrets,"  he  dryly  commented.  "And 
this  is  our  secret,  is  it  not?  You  won't  feel  called 
upon  to  repeat  outside  what  goes  on  between  us  in 
this  room?" 

"Certainly  not." 

The  assurance  seemed  unnecessary,  but  I  did  not 
regret  giving  it  when  I  saw  how  it  relieved  him  of 
all  doubt,  and  caused  his  eye  to  lighten  and  his  man 
ner  to  grow  easy  as  he  went  on  to  say : 

"So  far  as  mortal  calculation  can  go,  this  room 
has  not  been  entered  by  anyone  but  the  police  or 
persons  acting  under  the  instructions  of  the  police, 
since  the  hour  when  Mr.  Gillespie  was  carried  out 
of  it.  Consequently  we  have  a  right  to  expect  all 


34O  THE  MAN 

articles  remaining  here  to  be  in  the  same  condition 
as  on  that  night.  This,  for  instance." 

He  had  taken  out  the  typewriter  from  a  closet 
built  in  one  of  the  corners,  and  set  it  as  he  spoke 
down  in  its  old  place  on  the  edge  of  the  desk. 

"Ah!"  I  burst  forth.  "Your  idea  is  in  connec 
tion  with  this  typewriter!" 

He  frowned,  or  almost  frowned,  for  he  was  an 
amiable  fellow;  then,  giving  me  a  pleading  look, 
observed : 

"I  am  young  yet,  Mr.  Outhwaite,  and  it  is  very 
easy  for  me  to  deceive  myself  with  imaginary  results. 
You  will  therefore  allow  me  a  minute  to  myself,  and 
if  I  find  out  that  I  have  struck  a  false  trail,  or  if  my 
idea  proves  to  be  one  I  cannot  sustain  by  facts,  I  '11 
sing  out  and  we  will  consult  as  to  our  next  move." 

"Shall  I  step  outside?"  I  asked. 

But  this  he  would  not  listen  to. 

"All  I  want,"  said  he,  "is  for  you  to  look  the  other 
way  while  I  stoop  over  this  typewriter." 

I  naturally  felt  disposed  to  humour  him,  and 
meanwhile  he  remained  so  still  that  I  was  confident 
he  did  not  touch  the  instrument.  But  the  cry  which 
impetuously  burst  from  him  after  a  moment  of  in 
tense  stillness  startled  me  so  I  can  never  forget  it. 
It  was  something  between  a  sob  and  a  shout,  and  it 
was  so  suggestive  of  triumph  that  I  could  not  for 
bear  turning  about  and  rushing  up  to  the  instrument 
over  which  he  still  stooped. 

He  greeted  me  with  a  look  of  delight  and  a  rush  of 
confused  gestures. 

"See,  sir;  oh,  see!     How  I  wish  Mr.  Gryce  were 


WITH  THE   SHADE  DOWN  34! 

here!  Look  at  the  top  of  that  key,  sir — the  one  with 
the  words,  'Shift  key'  on  it.  Yes,  that  one;  that! 
What  is  the  matter  with  it ?  Tell  me." 

"The  face  of  it  is  obscured.  I  can  scarcely  read 
the  words.  There  is  something  on  it.  Something 
like " 

"Paste!"  he  cried.  "The  paste  that  ran  out  of 
the  bottle  and  spread  over  the  desk.  You  can  still 
see  unmistakable  signs  of  it  here  and  here"  (point 
ing  rapidly  as  he  spoke),  "for  Mr.  Gryce  would  not 
allow  a  woman  in  the  room,  and  nothing  has  been 
cleaned  since  that  night.  The  paste  is  but  a  dry 
crust  now,  but  you  must  remember  that  it  was  moist 
when  Mr.  Gillespie  stooped  over  the  table,  so  that 
when  his  fingers  got  into  it  in  his  struggle  to  reach 
the  typewriter,  he  readily  transferred  it  to  the  keys. 
This  will  be  apparent  to  you  if  you  will  scrutinise 
the  exact  keys  he  made  use  of  in  writing  those 
last  five  words.  Observe  the  one  marked  e  ;  now 
this  n,  and  now  the  o.  There  is  but  a  trace  of  paste 
on  some  of  them ;  but  it  is  thick  on  the  e,  and  thicker 
still  on — what  key,  sir?" 

"The  one  you  first  drew  my  attention  to;  the  one 
marked 'Shift  key.'" 

"Just  so.  Now,  do  you  know  the  use  of  the 
'Shift  key?'  " 

"I  do  not." 

"You  press  it  down  when  you  wish  the  letter  you 
are  writing  to  be  a  capital.  For  instance,  I  wish  to 
write  the  capital  I.  I  hold  down  this  '  Shift  key  '  with 
one  finger  and  strike  the  key  marked  i  with  another." 

"Yes,  but " 


342  THE   MAN 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say:  'No 
capital  appears  in  the  five  words  we  are  now  con 
sidering.'  True,  sir,  but  does  not  this  paste  on  the 
'  Shift  key  '  show  that  he  made  an  effort  to  write  one ; 
that  a  capital  was  in  his  mind  even  if  it  did  not  get 
on  paper?  In  beginning  any  communication,  one 
naturally  starts  with  a  capital,  and  you  see,  sir, 
that  the  space  between  this  last  hurriedly  added 
phrase  and  the  words  of  his  unfinished  letter  is  long 
enough  to  hold  one.  But  the  haste  and  agitation 
of  this  dying  man  were  such  that  he  did  not  put 
enough  force  into  his  stroke  to  bring  an  impression 
of  this  opening  capital.  If,  therefore,  we  would 
read  this  communication  intelligently,  it  is  impera 
tive  upon  us  to  supply  this  missing  capital.  Now, 
what  letter  do  you  think  he  meant  to  write  there 
and  did  not?" 

I  blankly  shook  my  head.  My  thoughts  were  in 
a  great  whirl. 

"There  is  but  one,"  he  cried,  "which  would  make 
any  sense;  the  letter  N,  sir,  the  famous  letter  N. 
Supply  that  letter,  sir ;  then  tell  me  how  those  words 
would  read.  You  know  them  well,  or,  stay,  I  have 
them  here." 

And  Sweetwater  spread  before  me  a  copy  of  the 
letter  as  it  appeared  after  Mr.  Gillespie  had  added 
the  five  words  which  had  moulded  the  whole  course 
of  the  investigation  up  to  this  point. 

But  this  was  an  unnecessary  precaution  on  his 
part.  I  knew  the  words  by  heart,  and  already  had 
prefixed  to  them  the  capital  N  which  he  had  just 
convinced  me  belonged  there,  as  witness: 


WITH   THE   SHADE  DOWN  343 

"  one  of  my  sons  he  " 

"  None  of  my  sons  he  " 

"Oh!"  I  cried,  "what  a  difference!" 

Young  Sweetwater's  face  absolutely  shone. 

"Is  n't  there?"  he  cried.  "I  got  that  idea  while 
you  were  talking  about  Miss  Meredith.  But  that 
is  not  all.  We  are  not  through  with  our  experiments 
yet.  A  letter  prefixed  is  not  enough.  We  need  to 
affix  a  few.  Can  you  supply  them?" 

I  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"'  None  of  my  sons  he  '  fails  to  make  good  sense, 
Mr.  Outhwaite.  But  look!" 

Replacing  the  paper  in  the  typewriter,  he  pressed 
a  few  keys,  lifted  the  carriage,  and  drew  me  down 
to  see.  Imagine  my  amazement  and  the  shock 
given  to  all  my  previous  convictions  when  I  saw 
written  before  me  these  words: 

"  None  of  my  sons  hewson." 


XXXIII 

IN    WHICH    WE    CAN   PARDON   MR.    GRYCE    HIS 
UNFORTUNATE    ILLNESS 


"  \/OU  did  n>t  exPect  that?  *  Bought  I  would 
I  surprise  you,  sir.  Oh,  I  know  what  you 
want  to  say  !  "  Sweetwater  eagerly  continued.  "  You 
miss  the  period  and  capital  H  which  would  show 
'he'  to  be  the  beginning  of  a  proper  name.  But, 
sir,  Mr.  Gillespie  would  not  have  been  the  failing 
man  he  was,  if  by  this  time  he  could  think  of  capitals, 
much  less  periods.  He  was  not  even  able  to  com 
plete  the  word,  though  he  evidently  failed  to  realise 
this.  'None  of  my  sons.  Hewson'  is  what  was  in 
his  mind;  you  may  take  my  word  for  that.  And 
now,"  he  triumphantly  concluded,  after  a  short  but 
satisfied  contemplation  of  my  face,  "you  can  see 
why  this  dying  man  should  expend  his  last  ener 
gies  in  insuring  the  safe  delivery  of  these  words  to 
the  one  person  who  knew  his  former  dreadful 
suspicions.  Shrinking  as  any  father  might  from 
letting  his  sons  know  to  what  a  fearful  extent  he 
had  misjudged  them,  and  dreading,  as  he  doubtless 
had  good  reason  to,  some  interference  on  the  part 
of  Hewson  if  he  attempted  to  call  any  one  in  the 
house  to  his  aid,  he  sent  his  little  grandchild  into 
the  street  -  " 

344 


IN    WHICH    WE    CAN  PARDON  MR.    GRYCE      345 

"But " 

"  I  know  we  are  dealing  with  mere  possibilities  as 
yet,  sir.  But  these  possibilities  are  much  more 
credible  than  the  surmises  in  which  we  have  hitherto 
indulged.  I  feel  as  if  free  air  had  entered  my  lungs 
for  the  first  time  since  the  inquest;  and  if  I  can  re 
frain  from  yielding  too  much  to  the  intoxication  of 
it " 

"But,"  I  again  repeated,  determined  to  have  my 
say  out  before  he  had  gone  too  far,  "what  motive 
can  you  ascribe  to  this  poor  old  servant  for  a  death 
which  robbed  him  of  a  master  he  had  served  devot 
edly  for  years?" 

"Motive   be   !"    cried    Sweetwater,    in   some 

heat.  But,  with  his  usual  good  nature,  he  instantly 
begged  my  pardon,  and  his  next  words  were  uttered 
with  more  restraint.  "Facts  first,  motives  after 
wards.  What  motive  have  we  been  able  to  find  for 
the  committal  of  this  deed  by  any  one  of  his  sons  ? 
Yet  each  and  all  of  them  have  been  suspected  and 
almost  arraigned.  Still,"  he  concluded,  "if  you 
want  a  motive,  search  for  it  here,"  and  he  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  second  folded  paper,  which  he  opened 
out  before  my  eyes. 

It  was  a  copy  of  Mr.  Gillespie's  will. 

"Ah!"  I  cried,  in  dim  perception  of  what  he 
meant. 

"A  thousand  dollars,"  explained  Sweetwater. 
"  Not  much  in  your  eyes,  but  quite  a  fortune  in  his." 

"And  for  so  paltry  a  legacy  you  think  that  this 
man >: 

Sweetwater 's    finger  went  to  his    lips.     "Excuse 


346  THE  MAN 

me,"  said  he,  "but  had  we  not  better  put  back  this 
typewriter  on  the  shelf  from  which  we  took  it?  If 
I  do  not  mistake,  it  will  figure  largely  in  the  trial 
which  I  plainly  see  approaching." 

I  nodded,  recognising  the  wisdom  of  the  admoni 
tion  thus  given,  and  together  we  placed  the  type 
writer  back  in  the  closet.  Then  he  turned  towards 
me  with  a  new  light  in  his  small  grey  eye. 

"And  now,  sir,"  he  cried,  "let  me  request  you  to 
stand  back  a  trifle.  I  am  going  to  finish  this  business." 

Opening  the  door  with  a  sudden  jerk,  he  plunged 
into  the  hall.  A  shadow  was  just  disappearing 
from  the  opposite  doorway.  With  a  shout  to  me 
to  light  up,  he  leaped  across  the  hall  into  the  dining- 
room.  The  next  minute  I  heard  a  cry,  then  a  low 
gurgle;  then  the  match  I  had  hastily  struck  flared 
up,  and  I  beheld  the  detective  holding  down  the  but 
ler  and  looking  eagerly  towards  me  for  the  expected 
light. 

The  man  in  the  hall  was  by  this  time  at  my  side, 
and  between  us  we  soon  had  three  jets  lit,  illuminat 
ing  two  white  faces :  Sweetwater's  pale  with  triumph, 
Hewson's  blue-white  from  fear. 

"Murderer!  Poisoner  of  your  benefactor  and 
friend,  I  have  you  at  last!"  cried  the  struggling 
detective,  watching  how  each  terrible  word  he 
hurled  blanched  to  a  greater  and  greater  degree 
the  face  he  held  pressed  back  for  our  inspection. 
"You  could  see  without  faltering  your  master's 
sons,  the  boys  you  have  dandled  on  your  knee,  fall 
one  after  the  other  under  the  shadow  of  public  sus 
picion.  Now  we  will  see  if  you  can  show  as  much 


IN    WHICH    WE    CAN  PARDON  MR.    GRYCE      347 

heroism  on  your  own  account.  You  are  the  man 
who  drugged  Mr.  Gillespie's  wine;  and  if  the  officer 
here  will  take  you  in  charge  for  an  hour  or  so,  I  will 
go  down  and  procure  a  warrant  for  your  arrest." 

The  attack  was  so  sudden,  and  Sweetwater's  man 
ner  one  of  such  complete  conviction,  that  the  old 
man  succumbed  to  it  without  a  struggle. 

"Mercy!"  he  moaned.  "I  was  old — tired  of  work 
— a  little  home — a  little  freedom  in  my  old  age — 

o 

Ct 

I  fled  from  the  room.  It  seemed  as  if  the  walls 
must  cave  in  upon  us.  For  this,  for  this! 

The  sight  of  a  half-dozen  frightened  faces  in  the 
hall  restored  my  self-possession.  The  servants  had 
come  up  from  below  and  stood  crowding  and  jost 
ling  each  other  just  as  they  had  done  three  weeks 
before.  At  the  sight  of  Hewson's  cowering  figure 
they  began  to  moan  and  cry. 

"Be  quiet  there!"  exhorted  Sweetwater,  advancing 
upon  them  with  the  courage  born  of  his  triumph 
ant  success.  "The  old  man  whom  you  have  doubt 
less  thought  the  best-hearted  and  most  reliable  of  you 
all  has  just  confessed  to  the  crime  which  has  deso 
lated  this  house  and  all  but  ruined  the  three  young 
gentlemen,  your  masters.  Cry  away  if  you  want 
to,  but  cry  quietly  and  without  giving  the  least 
alarm,  for  the  good  news  has  not  gone  up-stairs  yet, 
and  this  gentleman,  who  was  the  first  to  announce 
Mr.  Gillespie's  death  to  his  sons,  naturally  would  like 
the  satisfaction  of  telling  them  that  his  murderer  has 
been  found.  I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  George  and 
his  brother  are  to  be  found  above." 


348  THE   MAN 

"They  be,  sir,  they  be,"  spoke  up  a  voice. 

Sweetwater,  whose  divination  of  my  wishes  struck 
me  as  remarkable,  stepped  aside  at  this,  and,  wait 
ing  for  me  to  pass  him,  followed  me  to  the  floor  above 
with  a  step  so  light  he  seemed  to  be  buoyed  up  by 
wings. 

As  on  a  former  memorable  occasion,  I  stopped 
at  George's  door  first.  The  knock  I  gave  was  fol 
lowed  by  a  rather  surly  invitation  to  enter.  Ex 
cusing  his  ungraciousness  in  consideration  of  the 
fact  that  his  visitors  of  late  had  not  been  entirely 
those  of  his  own  choice  and  consequently  far  from 
welcome,  I  pushed  open  the  door  without  any  other 
exhibition  of  feeling  than  an  apologetic  smile. 

A  scene  of  disorder  confronted  me;  the  disorder 
of  an  idle  man  who  feels  that  with  the  withdrawal 
of  all  women  from  the  house  he  had  lost  all  incent 
ive  to  neatness,  perhaps  to  decency.  In  its  midst, 
and  lolling  on  a  table  over  which  lay  spread  some 
cards  he  was  pushing  about  with  idle  fingers,  sat 
George,  much  the  worse  for  liquor,  and  by  just  that 
much  short  of  being  the  handsome  man  he  was  in 
tended  to  be  by  nature. 

At  sight  of  me  he  rose,  and,  propping  himself  for 
ward  on  the  table,  looked  the  inquiry  he  was  prob 
ably  unable  to  formulate  in  words.  I  answered  as  if 
he  had  spoken: 

"You  must  pardon  my  intrusion,  Mr.  Gillespie. 
I  have  come  to  bring  you  very  good  news." 

"What  news?" 

"  News  of  your  brother's  speedy  release.  News 
of  your  father's  murderer,  who,  though  an  inmate 


77V    WHICH    WE    CAN  PARDON  MR.  GRYCE      349 

of  his  house,  does  not  bear  the  name  of  Gillespie. 
It  is  your  butler,  Hewson " 

With  a  shout  he  threw  out  his  hands,  and  then 
sank  panting  and  with  drooped  head  into  the  chair 
mercifully  at  hand  to  receive  him. 

"  I  have  always  sworn  that  Leighton  was  innocent," 
he  cried  out  with  unexpected  vehemence.  "  In  pub 
lic  and  private,  declared  that — he  could — no  more 
— have  done — that  thing " 

Sweetwater  slipped  from  the  room  and  I  quietly 
followed,  shutting  the  door  softly  behind  me. 

We  went  directly  above;  and  this  time  found  the 
room  we  wished  to  visit,  open.  As  the  face  of  its 
natural  occupant  could  be  plainly  seen  from  where 
we  stood,  we  gratified  our  curiosity  by  a  momentary 
contemplation  of  it.  Like  his  brother,  Alfred  Gil 
lespie  was  sitting  at  a  table,  but  he  was  neither 
flushed  with  wine  nor  engaged  in  idle  revery.  On 
the  contrary,  he  was  very  busy  writing  letters.  But 
he  was  not  satisfied  with  his  work.  He  looked  restless 
and  disturbed,  and,  in  the  minute  or  two  we  stood 
there  watching  him,  tore  up  the  wretched  scrawls 
he  had  just  indited,  with  a  groan  indicative  not  only 
of  impatience,  but  deep,  almost  heart-rending  an 
guish.  On  his  pale  brow  and  in  his  attenuated 
frame  few  signs  remained  of  the  once  luxurious 
Alfred,  and  when,  after  a  second  attempt  at  express 
ing  himself,  he  made  a  dash  at  the  unfinished  let 
ter  and,  crumpling  it  to  nothing  in  his  hand,  threw 
it  into  the  fire,  I  turned  to  Sweetwater  and  whis 
pered  : 

"Cut  this  misery  short." 


350  THE  MAN 

The  young  detective  nodded,  and  with  a  clearing 
of  his  throat,  meant,  I  am  sure,  as  a  warning,  he 
advanced  and  entered  the  room,  into  which  I  rapidly 
followed  him.  Without  pausing  for  any  greeting 
from  the  astonished  Alfred,  he  at  once  presented 
me  in  the  following  manner : 

"  Mr.  Gillespie,  will  you  allow  me  the  honour  of 
presenting  Mr.  Outhwaite,  who  has  come  to  offer 
you  his  hearty  congratulations?  " 

"Congratulations!"  I  don't  know  whether  I 
was  more  moved  by  the  sarcasm  or  the  despair 
expressed  in  this  repetition  of  the  word,  which 
must  have  fallen  with  strange  effect  on  Alfred 
Gillespie's  ear.  "For  what,  may  I  ask?" 

"For  the  speedy  lifting  of  the  cloud  which  has 
darkened  this  house;  for  the  free  and  honourable 
return  of  your  brother  from  his  present  place  of  de 
tention,  and  the  incarceration  in  his  stead  of  the  old 
man,  Hewson,  who  has  just  confessed  to  the  crime 
of  having  poisoned  your  father." 

"Hewson!  Old  Hewson  !  "  Alfred  rose  with  a 
wild  laugh  that  was  not  unlike  a  curse.  "You  are 
playing  with  me !  You  are ' ' 

"No,"  I  interposed,  with  a  decision  he  could  not 
but  recognise.  "Far  from  it,  Mr.  Gillespie.  What 
the  detective  says  is  true.  Hewson  acknowledges 
the  whole  thing.  He  wanted  a  little  home,  knew 
that  a  legacy  awaited  him  at  your  father's  death, 
and  wished  to  hasten  his  enjoyment  of  it.  Your 
father  recognised  him  as  his  poisoner  when  too  late. 
He  tried  to  communicate  the  fact  to  Miss  Meredith 
in  the  five  words:  'None  of  my  sons.  Hewson,' 


IN    WHICH    WE    CAN  PARDON  MR.    GRYCE      35! 

but  his  strength  failed  him,  and  he  only  succeeded 
in  impressing  on  the  paper  the  unfinished  words: 
'one  of  my  sons  he.'  The  detective  will  explain." 

"Ah!"  was  his  troubled  response,  as  he  sank  back 
into  the  seat  from  which  he  had  risen.  Then  as  he 
met  our  eyes  fixed  sympathetically  upon  him,  he 
dropped  his  head  upon  his  arms,  crying  brokenly: 
"Don't  look  at  me!  Don't  look  at  me!  All  this 
misery  and  shame!  And  it  was  Hewson!  Oh, 
Hope!  Hope!" 

We  left  him.  It  was  all  we  could  do.  As  we 
stepped  down  together  into  the  lower  hall,  Sweet- 
water  remarked  to  me,  with  one  of  his  rare  smiles : 

"  If  you  know  of  anyone  to  whom  this  unexpected 
clearing  of  the  Gillespie  name  will  be  especially  grati 
fying,  you  are  at  liberty  now  to  make  the  good  news 
known.  I  'm  off  for  police  headquarters,  there  to 
begin  those  proceedings  which  will  release  Leighton 
Gillccpie  in  time  to  meet  the  body  of  his  wife  at 
Communipaw. ' ' 


XXXIV 

"IT  WAS  THE  SHOCK!" 

LATER,  Hewson  made  a  fuller  confession.     In  it, 
he  explained   how  he  first   came  to  meditate 
the  crime  which  he  afterwards  carried  out  with  such 
diabolic  persistence. 

He  had  never  indulged  himself  in  dishonest  long 
ings,  never  allowed  himself  to  dream  of  any  other 
life  than  that  of  daily  work  in  the  household  of  which 
he  had  for  so  many  years  been  a  member,  until  the 
day  he  was  called  into  his  master's  study  on  some 
errand  or  other  which  led  him  to  the  desk.  A 
memorandum  was  lying  there,  and  as  he  had  his 
glasses  on,  he  could  not  help  seeing  his  own  name 
among  a  list  of  others,  with  the  figures  $1000  against 
it.  Now,  it  was  no  secret  in  the  house  that  his  mas 
ter  was  at  this  very  time  engaged  in  drawing  up  his 
will.  Indeed,  the  lawyer  had  been  there  that  very 
morning.  Consequently,  Hewson  immediately  drew 
the  inference  that  these  figures  represented  the 
amount  he  was  to  receive  upon  his  master's  death, 
and  though  at  the  moment  he  experienced  nothing 
but  gratitude  for  the  good- will  thus  shown,  the 
knowledge  of  what  he  might  expect  under  certain 
circumstances  slowly  roused  in  him  strange  am 
bitions  and  new  desires,  which  afterwards  resolved 

352 


"•IT  WAS  THE   SHOCK"  353 

themselves  into  longings  which  gave  him  no  rest 
day  or  night. 

The  relief  from  daily  routine, — a  little  home  in  a 
country  place  where  he  could  raise  vegetables  and 
flowers, — a  quiet  smoke  in  the  twilight  on  a  porch 
all  his  own, — all  this  would  be  paradise  to  the  tired 
old  man,  and  as  he  dwelt  upon  its  charms  he  be 
came  impatient  at  his  master's  robust  health,  and 
began  to  note  the  difference  in  their  years — which, 
alas!  were  entirely  in  his  master's  favour;  and  to 
think — yes,  to  think — that  though  it  would  cause 
him  regret — naturally  so — to  see  that  master's 
health  give  way,  it  would  not  be  so  hard  as  this  end 
less  counting  of  years  nothing  but  disease  could 
annul;  that,  in  short,  a  lifetime  of  service  devoted 
to  Mr.  Gillespie  and  his  sons  had  become  as  nothing 
in  the  light  of  his  new  desires,  and  when  the  usually 
healthy  broker  was  finally  seized  with  some  com 
plaint  which  laid  him  on  his  back,  these  desires  grew 
into  hopes  which  it  was  useless  for  him  to  smother, 
for  he  was  now  determined  to  have  his  little  fortune 
whether  or  no,  and  have  it  before  he  was  himself  too 
old  to  miss  its  full  enjoyment. 

Meanwhile,  he  was  much  in  the  confidence  of  the 
family.  He  heard  his  master's  symptoms  discussed, 
and  learned  while  waiting  on  table  that  Mr.  Gilles 
pie  was  being  given  small  doses  of  a  certain  poison 
as  medicine;  doses  which  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
increase.  He  could  go  through  all  his  duties  with 
the  utmost  precision  without  ceasing  to  take  in  such 
a  conversation;  and  when  in  the  course  of  time  he 
heard  that  Mr.  Gillespie  was  improving  and  would 


354  THE  MAN 

soon  be  quite  well,  he  allowed  himself  to  dwell  upon 
the  tempter's  whispered  suggestion  that  three  more 
little  drops  from  a  bottle  constantly  in  use  by  his 
master's  bedside  would  remedy  all  this,  and  in  a 
safe  and  seemingly  natural  way  end  the  one  exist 
ence  which  stood  between  him  and  the  money  he 
now  regarded  as  his  own. 

The  carrying  out  of  this  thought  was  easy.  He 
knew  that  his  master  was  now  well  enough  to  be 
left  alone  at  night,  likewise  to  help  himself  to  his 
own  medicine  after  it  was  once  prepared  for  him. 
One  had  only  to  steal  into  the  room  in  the  early 
hours  of  the  night,  and,  with  careful  manipulation 
of  bottle  and  glass,  increase  that  dose  before  the 
time  came  for  the  sick  man  to  want  it.  Hewson 
was  accustomed  to  noiseless  actions;  he  could  even 
handle  glass  without  a  sound,  having  been  trained 
in  quiet  ways  by  the  very  man  who,  in  such  an  un 
expected  manner,  was  now  destined  to  fall  a  victim 
to  these  very  precautions.  He  therefore  did  not 
fear  waking  Mr.  Gillespie;  he  only  feared  finding 
him  already  awake. 

But  even  this  possibility  lost  its  terrors  when  he 
considered  that  to  make  himself  quite  safe  he  had 
but  to  utter  the  low-whispered  Father  I  with  which 
the  young  gentlemen  were  accustomed  to  approach 
the  sick-bed  at  night.  If  Mr.  Gillespie  heard  and 
answered,  he  would  know  the  moment  badly  chosen 
and  steal  away.  While,  if  no  answer  came,  he  had 
but  to  proceed  as  the  devil  and  his  own  dark  instincts 
prompted. 

Night  came,  and  he  went  through  his  part,  as  he 


"IT  WAS  THE  SHOCK"  355 

supposed,  successfully;  but  in  the  morning  he  missed 
the  alarm  he  had  a  right  to  expect,  and  soon  learned 
that  Mr.  Gillespie  had  accidentally  overthrown  the 
glass  of  medicine  which  had  been  so  carefully  pre 
pared  for  him.  Worse  than  this,  he  saw  the  bottle 
of  poison  emptied  clean  out,  and  heard  that  Mr. 
Gillespie's  medicine  was  to  be  changed  to  one  quite 
harmless. 

What  did  this  mean,  and  how  could  he  now  hope 
to  carry  out  the  scheme  he  was  more  than  ever  re 
solved  upon?  For  a  while  he  felt  quite  discour 
aged,  and  drooped  a  little  over  his  work,  which  was 
becoming  hourly  more  irksome.  He  began  to  hate 
the  man  who  had  upset  the  glass  which,  if  drank, 
would  have  insured  him  an  immediate  enjoyment 
of  his  little  fortune;  and  even  to  cherish  the  same 
feeling  towards  Mr.  Gillespie's  three  sons,  to  whose 
wants  he  catered  and  who  were  all  young  enough 
to  wait  for  their  fortunes,  while  he,  now  nearly  four 
score,  could  not.  That  is,  he  hated  the  two  eldest; 
but  Alfred — well,  he  did  n't  quite  hate  Alfred;  in 
deed,  he  almost  loved  him,  loved  him  well  enough 
to  be  glad  that  he,  as  well  as  himself,  would  profit 
by  the  old  man's  death,  if  only  some  new  way  could 
be  found  of  bringing  it  safely  about. 

Meanwhile,  he  found  as  many  errands  to  his  mas 
ter's  rooms  as  possible,  especially  when  the  doctor 
was  there;  and,  being  regarded  as  a  piece  of  house 
hold  furniture  rather  than  a  living,  breathing,  and 
determined  man,  these  two  rarely  made  an  end  to 
their  talk  or  changed  their  topic  on  account  of  his 
presence.  And  so  it  was  he  heard  them  often 


356  THE  MAN 

discuss  poisons,  and  was  able  to  gather  up  one  or  two 
items  in  regard  to  these  dangerous  drugs  which 
otherwise  he  might  have  missed.  Among  other 
things  he  learned  that  an  acid  smelling  like  bitter 
almonds  killed  quickly  and  without  much  pain;  but 
he  failed  to  take  in  that  this  very  smell  was  calculated 
to  give  away  its  presence.  Brooding  over  this 
happy  discovery,  he  cast  about  in  his  mind  how  he 
could  prepare  a  drink  likely  to  please  his  master 
without  awakening  his  distrust.  For  weeks  he 
thought  it  over,  testing  and  trying  various  concoc 
tions.  Finally  he  hit  on  one  which  he  prepared 
under  Mr.  Gillespie's  eye  and  partially  under  his 
directions,  and  which  was  so  strongly  spiced  that 
his  master  did  not  detect,  or  at  least  made  no  objec 
tion,  to  the  flavouring  of  bitter  almonds  which  he 
was  careful  to  put  into  it.  Indeed,  Mr.  Gillespie 
grew  to  like  it,  and,  for  a  reason  now  readily  to  be 
understood,  seemed  to  prefer  anything  brought  him 
by  his  old  servant  to  the  finest  of  wines  poured  out; 
for  him  by  his  sons. 

Having  thus  provided  a  means  for  disguising  the 
poison  when  the  opportunity  came  for  administer 
ing  it,  he  cast  about  how  he  could  procure  the  neces 
sary  drug  without  risk  to  himself.  Ignorant  as  he 
was  in  most  matters,  he  knew  that  he  could  not  walk 
into  a  drug-store  and  buy  so  deadly  a  poison  with 
out  rousing  suspicion.  So,  as  I  have  said  before, 
he  waited.  But  not  long.  Will  begets  way,  or, 
truer  yet,  the  devil  prepares  the  way  for  him  who 
is  willing  to  walk  in  it. 

One  morning  he  came  upon  a  phial  in  Mr.  Leigh- 


"77"  WAS  THE   SHOCK"  357 

ton's  room  whose  very  appearance  strangely  affected 
him.  It  was  small;  it  held  a  dark  liquid;  and  it 
had  a  wicked  look  strangely  attractive  to  him.  He 
took  the  phial  up;  he  smelt  it.  Bitter  almonds! 
Greatly  excited  and  somewhat  shaken,  he  set  it  down 
again.  How  had  Mr.  Leighton  come  by  this?  What 
did  he  want  of  it,  and  why  was  it  left  standing  in 
this  open  way  on  his  bureau?  Was  it  for  medicinal 
purposes  like  the  other?  Probably;  but  it  seemed 
stronger,  very  strong  indeed ;  it  seemed  strong  enough 
to  kill  a  man.  Catching  it  up,  he  carried  it  away. 

"If  any  inquiries  are  made,  I  '11  say  I  knocked  it 
over  and  broke  it."  But  Hewson  did  n't  think  any 
inquiries  would  be  made.  Mr.  Gillespie's  sudden 
death  would  make  all  such  little  matters  forgotten. 

Having  in  this  unexpected  way  secured  the  very 
poison  he  most  desired,  Hewson  poured  into  the 
sink  all  but  the  few  drops  he  had  heard  constituted 
a  fatal  dose.  Then  he  put  the  phial  away  in  a  tea 
cup  and  waited  his  opportunity.  It  was  not  long 
in  coming.  That  evening  he  prepared  the  drink 
as  usual  for  Mr.  Gillespie,  and,  while  waiting  for  that 
gentlemen  to  call  for  it,  saw  Mr.  George  come  into 
the  dining-room  and  take  away  the  bottle  of  sherry, 
and  afterwards  Mr.  Alfred,  who  hunted  about  for 
his  pencil.  Later,  he  heard  Mr.  Leighton  come 
down- stairs,  but  he  did  not  wait  to  see  what  that 
gentleman  wanted,  for  his  own  work  in  the  butler's 
pantry  was  now  done,  and  he  thought  it  better  to 
show  himself  in  the  kitchen.  But  he  was  suddenly 
called  up  by  the  dining-room  bell.  Mr.  Leighton 
wished  a  glass  of  sherry  for  his  father.  This  was 


358  THE  MAN 

an  unexpected  order,  and  for  the  moment  set  him 
quite  aback.  For  if  Mr.  Gillespie  drank  sherry  now, 
he  would  not  want  his  spiced  drink  later.  How 
ever,  he  put  a  good  face  on  the  matter  and  got  out 
the  wine,  which  he  handed  to  Mr.  Leighton,  who 
poured  out  a  glassful  and  carried  it  in  to  his  father. 
A  moment  later  he  heard  the  front  door  close.  Leigh- 
ton  had  gone  out  to  one  of  his  numerous  meetings, 
and  Mr.  Gillespie  was  left  alone. 

Somehow  the  old  servant  had  an  irresistible  de 
sire  to  see  how  his  master  looked  at  this  moment. 
There  had  been  loud  words  between  that  master  and 
Mr.  Leighton  before  the  latter  had  left,  and  he  wanted 
to  see  how  his  master  had  borne  it — wanted  to  see — 
well,  he  hardly  knew  what;  but  he  went  to  the  din 
ing-room  door  and,  finding  the  opposite  one  open, 
peered  in. 

Mr.  Gillespie  was  standing  just  where  his  son  had 
doubtless  left  him,  gazing  intently  into  the  wine 
glass  which  he  held,  untasted,  in  his  hand.  His  face 
was  wan  and  troubled.  Suddenly  he  moved  and, 
glancing  behind  him,  like  a  man  bound  on  some 
guilty  errand,  but  not  looking  far  enough  into  the 
distance  to  see  Hewson  watching  him  from  the 
depths  of  the  dimly  lighted  room  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hall,  he  hurried  to  the  window,  and,  raising, 
first  the  shade  and  then  the  sash,  flung  out  the  con 
tents  of  the  glass  into  the  back-yard.  This  done,  he 
uttered  a  sigh,  which  spoke  of  some  great  inward 
trouble,  and,  reclosing  the  window,  carried  back  the 
empty  glass  to  the  dining-room,  from  which  Hewson 
had,  by  this  time,  slipped  in  guilty  confusion. 


"  IT    WAS   THE   SHOCK"  359 

Not  understanding  Mr.  Gillespie's  sudden  distaste 
for  the  wine  he  had  ordered,  but  determined  to  profit 
by  what  struck  him  as  a  very  happy  chance,  Hew- 
son  put  his  own  concoction  on  a  tray,  and,  creeping 
to  the  buffet,  took  the  phial  out  of  the  tea-cup  in 
which  he  had  concealed  it,  and  emptied  its  contents 
into  the  glass  he  carried.  Then  not  liking  to  put 
the  phial  back,  he  thrust  it  into  his  vest-pocket, 
mouth  up  (the  cork  having  slipped  from  his  hand 
and  rolled  away  in  the  darkness).  He  was  willing 
to  be  heard  now,  and  was  stepping  briskly  around 
the  room,  when  Mr.  Gillespie  called  out: 

"Who  's  that?     Is  it  Hewson?" 

"It  is,  sir,"  was  the  demure  reply.  "I  came  up 
to  make  you  that  drink  you  like  so  well;  but  Mr. 
Leighton  said  you  preferred  sherry." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  I  like  your  drink,  too.  Brew  it  and 
bring  it  in  to  me.  I  seem  to  be  unusually  thirsty 
to-night." 

Without  a  quiver,  without  a  conscious  sense  of 
doing  anything  greatly  out  of  the  common,  this  tried 
old  servant  brought  him  the  glass  which  he  knew 
would  end  all  earthly  relations  between  them.  He 
even  waited  until  he  saw  it  emptied,  then  he  took 
it  out  again  and  immediately  washed  it. 

Why  he  felt  this  precaution  necessary  he  hardly 
knew,  unless  it  was  to  pass  away  the  moment  of 
suspense.  He  never  dreamed  for  a  minute  that 
there  was  anything  special  for  him  to  fear.  Were 
not  men  dropping  dead  every  day  in  counting-houses 
or  in  the  streets?  And  why  not  this  man?  That 
the  police  would  be  called  in  or  that  so  quiet  a  death 


360  THE  MAN 

would  be  treated  as  a  crime,  had  never  occurred  to 
him.  He  had  never  read  murder  cases  much;  in 
deed,  had  never  read  anything  much ;  he  only  knew  he 
wanted  his  master  to  die,  and  that  the  quickest  way 
to  bring  this  about  was  to  give  him  a  dose  of  very 
strong  poison.  Yet  after  he  had  done  this,  he  felt 
some  nervousness,  not  over  what  he  had  done, 
but  its  seemingly  slow  results.  He  had  expected 
Mr.  Gillespie  to  fall  at  once,  perhaps  before  he  was, 
himself,  well  out  of  the  room,  and  Mr.  Gillespie  did 
not  fall.  Hewson  had  had  time  to  wash  the  glass, 
put  it  away,  go  down  into  the  kitchen  again,  and 
come  back,  without  hearing  the  heavy  thud  for 
which  his  ears  were  strained.  Was  his  affair  to  fail 
again?  Had  the  dark  and  pungent  liquor  been 
harmless,  and  was  it  decreed  that  he  was  to  go  back 
to  the  old  life  with  no  hopes  of  a  change  or  relief? 
He  was  so  worked  up  by  this  thought  that  he  crept 
into  the  dining-room  again  and  was  making  for  the 
hall  door  to  take  another  peep  into  the  study,  when 
his  foot  encountered  a  small  object  on  the  floor. 
Yielding  to  his  usual  methodical  habits,  he  stooped 
and  picked  up  what  proved  to  be  Alfred's  pencil. 
This  he  mechanically  dropped  into  his  pocket,  then 
he  went  on. 

He  found  his  master  reeling  over  the  study  floor 
in  the  first  consciousness,  perhaps,  of  his  alarming 
condition.  He  seemed  to  be  trying  to  find  the  door, 
but  as  Hewson  drew  nearer  (fascinated,  perhaps, 
by  the  sight  of  suffering  of  which  he  himself  had 
been  the  cause),  Mr.  Gillespie  suddenly  paused  in 
this  effort,  and,  meeting  Hewson's  eyes,  threw  up 


"771  WAS  THE   SHOCK"  361 

his  arms  and  made  for  his  desk,  upon  which  he  fell 
in  a  way  which  assured  his  anxious  watcher  that 
the  last  minutes  of  his  quondam  master  were  at  hand.* 

As  he  had  no  wish  to  watch  his  sufferings,  he  made 
another  journey  down-stairs  and  showed  himself 
in  the  servants'  hall  just  as  little  Claire  broke  away 
from  her  nurse  and  rushed,  laughing  loudly,  up  to 
her  grandfather. 

This  convinced  him  that  his  own  comings  and 
goings  had  been  so  natural  that  they  had  not  even 
been  noticed  by  his  fellow-servants.  He  saw  that 
they  had  been  playing  a  merry  game  with  the  child, 
and  that  not  one  of  them  had  had  an  eye  for  him 
or  his  unaccustomed  nervousness.  This  gave  him 
courage,  and  soon,  very  soon  now,  they  all  had 
reason  for  nervousness.  The  long-delayed  alarm 
was  heard  at  last;  strangers  came  into  the  house; 
the  police  followed,  and  this  old  reprobate,  who  had 
remained  serene  amidst  all  the  turmoil,  realised  that 
there  was  more  to  fear  in  the  matter  than  had  ever 
struck  his  mind.  With  this  fear  came  not  only  a 
desire  to  hide  his  own  guilt,  but  the  requisite  cun 
ning  for  doing  so.  He  realised  that  he  must  get  rid 
of  the  phial  before  he  was  searched,  and,  being  left 
a  minute  to  himself  in  the  dining-room,  he  took  it 
out  of  his  side  vest-pocket,  and,  shaking  out  the  pen 
cil  which  had  slipped  into  it,  he  thrust  it  under  the 
clock  as  being  the  one  article  not  likely  to  be  moved. 
It  was  a  heavy  lift  for  his  old  arms,  and  his  elbows 

*  It  was  at  this  moment  probably,  and  not  till  this  mo 
ment,  that  Mr.  Gillespie  recognized  his  real  murderer.  Of 
the  tumult  thus  awakened  in  heart  and  brain, who  can  judge  ! 


362  THE  MAN 

shook  as  he  guided  it  back  into  place.  The  conse 
quence  was  that  he  knocked  over  the  glass  which 
Mr.  Gillespie  had  set  down  on  the  mantel-shelf  a 
few  minutes  before;  but  though  the  clatter  which 
it  made  attracted  attention  and  the  broken  pieces 
of  this  glass  were  carefully  examined,  nothing  was 
discovered  from  them,  the  glass  having  held  nothing 
but  sherry.  Not  so  with  poor  Alfred's  pencil,  the 
end  of  which  had  rested  in  the  last  drop  of  poison 
remaining  in  the  phial.  The  odour  of  prussic  acid 
thus  communicated  to  it  came  near  bringing  his 
favourite  young  master  into  jeopardy.  But  some 
thing,  Hewson  hardly  knew  what,  intervened  to 
save  him,  and  all  was  going  on  well,  or  as  well  as 
could  be  expected  after  the  suspicions  expressed  by 
Mr.  Gillespie  against  his  sons,  when  this  young  demon 
in  the  shape  of  a  detective  flung  himself  at  the  old 
butler's  throat  and,  without  telling  him  why  or  by 
what  means  he  had  learned  it,  accused  him  of  being 
his  master's  poisoner. 

"It  was  the  shock!  the  shock!"  the  miserable 
wretch  wailed  out.  "  Had  I  had  more  time  to  think,  I 
would  have  known  that  he  had  no  proof  against  me; 
that  it  was  all  guess-work,  and  that  I  would  be  a 
fool  to  fear  that.  But  it  is  too  late  now.  I  have 
said  it,  and  I  stand  by  it.  Only  I  wish  I  could  have 
seen  the  thousand  dollars  for  which  I  killed  my  mas 
ter  lying  for  one  instant  in  my  hand.  I  would  will 
ingly  go  without  the  cottage,  go  without  the  evening 
pipe  in  the  sight  of  hills  and  meadows,  just  to  realise 
the  sensation  of  holding  all  that  money  and  knowing 
that  it  was  mine. " 


XXXV 

ROSES 

ONE  more  scene,  and  this  narration  of  my  life's 
most  stirring  episode  will  have  reached  its 
conclusion.  . 

It  was  a  memorable  scene  to  me.  It  took  place 
in  the  parlours  of  the  little  cottage  in  New  Jersey 
on  the  day  we  laid  Mille-fleurs  away  to  rest. 

The  burial  had  taken  place,  the  guests  had  de 
parted,  and  only  the  members  of  the  family  remained 
to  close  up  the  cottage,  now  more  than  ever  precious 
in  Leighton's  eyes.  George  and  Alfred,  with  an 
assumption  of  brotherly  feeling  they  probably 
thought  due  the  occasion,  had  stepped  out  together 
to  see  that  everything  was  ready  for  Hope's  depart 
ure,  and,  from  the  window  where  I  stood,  I  could 
see — arrant  spy  that  I  was — the  nonchalant  air 
with  which  either  turned  a  wary  eye  upon  the  other 
as  Hope's  voice  was  heard  above,  speaking  to  little 
Claire.  They  evidently  still  looked  upon  each  other 
as  the  possible  object  of  her  preference,  no  suspicion 
having  reached  them  of  the  tragic  secret  which  had 
made  this  young  girl's  heart  inaccessible  to  them 
both.  I,  who  knew  it,  and  had  my  own  place  in 
the  tragedy  to  which  they  had  been  blind,  did  not 
watch  them  long,  Leighton  being  the  more  interesting 

363 


364  THE  MAN 

figure  at  that  moment,  as,  standing  on  his  deso 
late  hearthstone,  he  allowed  his  eyes  to  wander  for 
the  last  time,  perhaps,  over  the  beauties  of  the  bijou 
dwelling  which,  exquisite  as  it  was,  had  been  as 
powerless  as  his  love  to  hold  his  roving  wife  in  check. 

He  was  waiting  for  Hope,  and  as  this  thought, 
with  its  suggestion  of  another  and  longer  waiting 
struck  my  mind,  a  pang  seized  me  which  it  took  all 
my  self-possession  to  hide.  Waiting  for — Hope! 
Hope,  who  had  sat  that  day  with  his  child  crushed 
close  against  her  breast,  and  a  look  on  her  face 
which  angels  might  view  with  pity,  but  which  I 

Ah!  she  was  coming!  I  turned  my  face  away, 
not  that  I  had  anything  to  dread  from  this  meeting, 
but  that  I  felt  as  if  I  could  not  bear  at  this  moment 
to  see  the  shadow  veiling  his  melancholy  counte 
nance  lift,  were  it  ever  so  lightly,  at  the  sound  of  the 
step  that  was  shaking  my  own  heart.  But  I  im 
mediately  glanced  back;  uncertainty  was  worse 
than  knowledge;  and,  glancing  back,  saw  Hope,  and 
Hope  only. 

She  was  standing  in  the  open  doorway  with  her 
arms  full  of  roses — roses  which  she  had  brought  from 
New  York,  and  which  she  now  held  out  towards 
Leighton,  with  a  smile  I  hardly  think  he  saw,  so 
much  was  his  attention  fixed  upon  the  flowers. 

"What  are  these  for?"  he  asked,  advancing  to 
wards  her  and  touching  the  great  roses  with  a  trem 
bling  hand. 

"They  are  for  her,"  said  Hope,  in  a  low  tone;  "for 
my  cousin  Millicent.  I  could  not  bear  to  have  her 


XOSES  365 

lie  with  only  her  husband's  tokens  on  her  breast,  as 
if  she  had  no — no " 

He  caught  her  to  his  heart.  Moved  to  the  very 
soul,  he  kissed  her  on  the  lips;  then  he  took  the 
flowers. 

As  he  passed  out,  she  tottered  pale  and  almost 
swooning  to  where  I  stood  trembling  with  my  own 
emotions.  Lifting  her  face,  with  its  candid  eyes 
and  quivering  lips,  she  faltered  between  her  sobs : 

"Have  patience  with  me!  I  see  now  that  he  has 
never  loved  me  and  never  will.  Had  so  much  as 
the  possibility  been  in  his  breast,  he  could  not  have 
kissed  me  like  that  to-day." 

It  was  not  on  George's  arm,  or  Alfred's,  or  even 
Leighton's  that  she  passed  out  of  that  little  house 
into  the  new  life  she  was  to  share  some  day  with  me. 


A  long  time  after  those  flowers  had  withered  on 
Mille-fleurs'  peaceful  breast,  Leighton  said  to  me, 
with  his  hand  on  the  head  of  his  child: 

"I  shall  never  marry  again,  Outhwaite.  To  train 
this  child  up  to  be  my  pride  as  she  is  now  my  joy, 
will  fill  my  life  as  full  of  happiness  as  is  necessary 
to  me  now.  And,  Outhwaite,  she  is  a  quiet  child, —  " 
he  stopped  —  I  knew  what  thought  had  stayed 
him, — "a  quiet  and  a  loving  child.  Yesterday  she 
sat  for  a  full  hour  with  her  arms  about  my  neck  and 
her  cheek  pressed  to  mine,  listening  while  I  talked 
to  her  of  things  a  child  usually  cares  but  little  about. 
This  is  balm  for  many  a  hurt,  Outhwaite,  and  if  it 
is  given  to  her  mother  to  look  down  upon  us  two " 


366  THE  MAN 

A  smile,  the  rarest  I  had  ever  seen,  finished  the 
sentence.  Seeing  it,  and  noting  how  it  irradiated 
features  which  once  bore  the  stamp  of  deepest  mel 
ancholy,  I  could  never  again  look  upon  Leighton 
Gillespie  as  an  unhappy  man. 

FINIS 


Works  by  Anna  Katharine  Green 


I.— THE  LEAVENWORTH   CASE.     A  Lawyer's  Story. 
4to,  paper,  20  cents  ;   16°,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth       .     $i  25 

"  She  has  worked  up  a  cause  cJlebre  with  a  fertility  of  device  and 
ingenuity  of  treatment  hardly  second  to  Wilkie  Collins  or  Edgar 
Allan  Poe." — Christian  Union. 

II.— BEHIND   CLOSED    DOORS.     16°,   paper,  50  cents; 
cloth .         .         .         , $i  oo 

"...  She  has  never  succeeded  better  in  baffling  the  reader." 
—  Boston  Christian  Register. 

III.— THE  SWORD  OF  DAMOCLES.     A  Story  of  New 
York  Life.     16°,  paper,  50  cents ;  cloth     .         .         .     $i  oo 

"  '  The  Sword  of  Damocles  '  is  a  book  of  great  power,  which  far 
surpasses  either  of  its  predecessors  from  her  pen,  and  places  her  high 
among  American  writers.  The  plot  is  complicated  and  is  managed 
adroitly.  ...  In  the  delineation  of  characters  she  has  shown 
both  delicacy  and  vigor."  — Congregationalist. 

IV.— X.   Y.   Z.  :  A    DETECTIVE    STORY.     16°,  paper, 

25  cents 

"  Well  written  and  extremely  exciting  and  captivating.  .  .  . 
She  is  a  perfect  genius  in  the  construction  of  a  plot." — N.  Y.  Com 
mercial  Advertiser. 

V.— HAND  AND  RING.     16°,  paper,  illustrated,  50  cents  ; 
cloth  .         .         . $i  oo 

"  It  is  a  tribute  to  the  author's  genius  that  she  never  tires  and  never 
loses  her  readers.  ...  It  moves  on  clean  and  healthy.  .  .  . 
It  is  worked  out  powerfully  and  skilfully." — N.  Y.  Independent. 

VI.— A  STRANGE   DISAPPEARANCE.     16°,  paper,    50 
cents ;  cloth       .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .     $i  oo 

"  A  most  ingenious  and  absorbingly  interesting  story.  The  readers 
are  held  spell-bound  until  the  last  page." — Cincinnati  Commercial. 

VII.    THE     MILL     MYSTERY.        16°,   paper,    50  cents; 
cloth $i  oo 

VIII.— 7   to    12:    A    DETECTIVE    STORY.     Square   16°, 
paper 25  cents 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London 


Works  by  Anna  Katharine  Green 


IX.— THE  OLD  STONE  HOUSE,  AND  OTHER 
STORIES.  16*,  paper,  40  cents  ;  cloth  .  .  .  75  cents 

"  It  is  a  bundle  of  quite  cleverly  constructed  pieces  of  fiction,  with 
which  an  idle  hour  may  be  pleasantly  passed." — N.  Y.  Independent. 

X.— CYNTHIA  WAKEHAM'S  MONEY.     With  frontis 
piece.     16°,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth    .         .         .         .     $i  oo 
"  '  Cynthia  Wakeham's  Money  '  is  a  story  notable  even  among  the 
many  vigorous  works  of  Anna  Katharine  Green." — New  York  Sun. 

XL— MARKED    "PERSONAL."      16°,  paper,   50  cents; 
cloth $i  oo 

"  The  ingenious  plot  is  built  up  with  all  the  skill  of  the  writer  of 
'  The  Leavenworth  Case '  to  the  very  last  chapter,  which  contains 
the  surprising  solutions  of  several  mysteries." 

XII.— MISS  KURD:  AN  ENIGMA.     16',  paper,  50  cents; 
cloth $r  oo 

"A  strong  and  interesting  novel  in  an  entirely  new  field  of 
romance." 

XIII.— THE  DOCTOR,  HIS  WIFE,  AND  THE  CLOCK. 

32°,  limp  cloth         .......     50  cents 

"  The  story  is  entertainingly  told.    .    .    ." — Cincinnati  Tribune. 

XIV.— DR.  IZARD.     16°,  paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth   .         .     $i  oo 
"  Those  who  have  read  her  other  books  will  not  need  to  be  urged 
to  read  this  ;  they  will  be  eager  to  do  so,  and  we  assure  them  a  very 
interesting  story." — Boston  Times. 

XV.— THAT  AFFAIR  NEXT  DOOR.     16°,  paper,  50  cts.  ; 
cloth ,         .         .     $i  oo 

"Startling  in  its  ingenuity  and  its  wonderful  plot." — Buffalo 
Enquirer. 

XVI.— LOST  MAN'S  LANE.  16%  paper,  50 cts.;  cloth  $i  oo 
XVII.— AGATHA  WEBB.— 16°,  paper,  50  cts.  ;  cloth  .  $i  25 
XVIII.— ONE  OF  MY  SONS.— 16°,  cloth  only,  illustrated,  $i  50 
X.  Y.  Z,  and  7  to  12,  together,  16°,  cloth  .  .  .  .  $i  oo 

THE     DEFENCE     OF    THE    BRIDE,    AND    OTHER 
POEMS.      16',   cloth $i  oo 

RISIFI'S  DAUGHTER.     A  Drama.     16°,  cloth  .         .     $i  oo 


Q.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London 


WORKS  BY 
RODRIGUES  OTTOLENGUI 

Crime  Of  tbC  CentlirE.     Hudson  Library,  No.  12.     i6mo, 
$1.00;  paper,  50  cts. 

"  It  is  a  tribute  to  the  author's  skill,  that  he  never  loses  a  reader. 
For  fertility  in  imagining  a  complex  plot,  and  holding  the  reader 
in  ignorance  of  its  solution  until  the  very  end,  we  know  of  no  one 
who  can  rival  him." — Toledo  Blade, 

"  The  book  deals  with  the  subject  involved  in  the  most  powerful 
style  that  the  author  has  shown.  There  is  more  purpose  and  thought 
in  it  than  in  the  other  books." — Boston  Globe. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  best-told  stories  of  its  kind  we  have  read,  and  the 
reader  will  not  be  able  to  guess  its  ending  easily.  It  is  ingeniously 
worked  out  without  giving  away  the  true  solution,  and  those  who 
enjoy  a  well-written  detective  story  should  not  fail  to  read  it."— 
Soston  Times. 

Bn  Brtfgt  fn  Crime.     l6mo,  $1.00 ;  paper  50  cts. 

"  One  may  safely  say  that  it  ranks  with  the  best  detective  novels 
yet  published  in  this  country." — Boston  Times. 

"  *  An  Artist  in  Crime'  is  the  best  detective  story  which  has  been 
published  in  several  years." — New  Haven  Palladium. 

B  Conflict  Of  BViOenCC.     16  mo,  $1.00;  paper  50  cts. 

"  This  particular  book  is  the  best  of  its  kind  and  just  what  its  title 
sets  forth  .  .  .  It  is  a  masterpiece  of  consistent  theory,  and  will 
bear  reading  at  any  time  and  in  any  place." — Omaha  Excelsior. 

"  An  ingenious  novel  of  the  detective  type.  .  .  .  The  whole 
book  is  one  of  interest,  both  in  construction  and  in  literary  execution, 
vastly  superior  to  most  of  its  general  class." — New  York  Advertiser. 

B  fl&O&ern  TRJUSarO.     16  mo,  $1.00  ;  paper  50  cts. 

"  The  plot  is  ingeniously  constructed,  and  the  book  is  intensely 
exciting." — Boston  Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

"  The  story  is  ingenious,  the  characters  are  dramatic,  and  the 
evolution  of  the  plot  is  natural."— Boston  Times. 

tftnal  prOOf,  or,  The  Value  of  Evidence.     Hudson  Library,  No. 

33.     l6mo,  $1.00  ;  paper,  50  cts. 

•'  Dr.  Ottolengui  has  given  us  another  of  his  powerfully  imagin 
ative  detective  stories.  The  present  one  is  a  continuation  of  '  An 
Artist  in  Crime*  and  *  The  Crime  of  the  Century.'  The  problem  in 
this  story  is  shrewdly  solved,  and  the  interest  on  the  reader's  part  is 
kept  up  until  the  very  close." — New  Orleans  Picayune. 

(5.  p.  Putnam's  Sons 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  tfie  last  date  stamped  below. 


SEP  2  7 1987       fl 


:m  L9-Series  444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  030  065     7 


